

COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT 


4 


THE 

Siberian Exiles 

By Col. Thomas W. Knox, 

Author of “The Boy Travellers,” etc. 

ILLUSTRATED BY VICTOR PERARD. 



NEW YORK ; 

ROliHKT 1U)NX1-.R’S .SONS, 
Publishers, 


CHOICE 
%mim 
No. 77. 


A REMARKABLE NOVEL. 


ZINA’S AWAKING 

jS'oocl. 

BY MRS. J. KENT SPENDER, 

Author of “ Till Death Us do Partf ^'Gabrielle de Bourdainef 
Mr. Nobody f etc. 

WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY WARREN B. DAVIS. 

12ino. Handsomely Bound in Cloth. Price, $1.00. Paper Cover, 

50 Cents. 


SOME OPINIONS OF THE ENGLISH PRESS: 

Liverpool Mercury. — “ In this noble story, Mrs. Spender takes 
her place in the front rank of living English novelists. Apart 
from the style, which is clear and beautiful, there is throughout 
the whole work a play of such intense sympathy with all that is 
noble in manhood and womanhood, and at the same time such a 
manifestation of self-conscious strength, that the conviction is 
irresistible that in this writer we have an author whose name will 
some day be a household word.” 

London Guardian. — “ Has undoubted merits of its own in the 
way of freshness and originality, and an unusual depth of thought 
and earnestness of purpose.” 

London Spectator. — “ Mrs. Spender is not a mere manufacturer 
of fiction for the libraries; she is an artist with a fine feeling for 
artistic ends, and a true instinct for the means by which they are 
to be attained.” 

London Standard. — ‘‘Mrs. Spender is well apace with the 
thoughts and reflections that bewilder the ‘ advanced ’ young 
women of our day, and she writes with restraint and perception.” 

Scottish Leader. — “ Mrs. Spender can always be relied on to 
make her stories interesting. . . . ‘Zina’s Awaking ’is an 

eminently readable novel.” 

Freemaii's Io7irnal. — “A literary work of art. . . . Un* 

doubtedly able and well written.” 

For sale by all booksellers and newsdealers, or sent, postpaid, 
on receipt of price, by the publishers, 

ROBERT BONNER’S SONS, 

Cor. William and Spruce Streets, New York. 


THE SIBERIAN EXILES. 



THE SIBERIAN EXILES. 




y 

COL. THOMAS W°^^NOX, 

»f 


Author of Overland Through Asiaf ‘‘^■The Boy Travellers f 

etc, j etc. 


WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY VICTOR PERARD. 



NEW YORK: 

ROBERT BONNER’S SONS, 


PUBLISHERS. 


THE CHOICE SERIES '■ ISSUED SEMI-MONTHLY. SUBSCRIPTION PRICE, TWELVE DOLLARS PER ANNUM. NO. 77, 
JANUARY 16, 1899. ENTERED AT THE NEW YORK, N. Y., POST OPFICE AS SECOND CLASS MAIL MATTEI^. 



COPYRIGHT, 1892 and 1893, 

BY ROBERT BONNER’S SONS. 


{All rights reserved.) 



THE SIBERIAN EXILES, 


CHAPTER I. 

A MIDNIGHT ARREST IN RUSSIA. 

PEN the door ! Open in the name of 
the Czar !" 

This summons was accompanied by 
a loud knocking, which was audible at 
a considerable distance. It was at the 
door of Carl Pushkin, known among 
his neighbors and friends, as Carl 
Pavloff, or Carl, the son of Paul. 

There was a momentary pause, but 
the door was not opened. Again the 
summons was shouted and the knocking was resumed. 

The first knocking was with a clenched hand and the 
second with the hilt of a sword. One, two, three, half 
a dozen blows were given, and then the door was opened 
from within. By the light of a candle in his left hand, 
a half-dressed man of middle age, was revealed just 

[7l 



8 


THE SIBERIAN EXILES. 


inside the door-way, his face blanched with fright at 
the midnight summons, which might be of terrible 
import. 

With the opening of the door, the one who had uttered 
the summons, stepped inside. 

His uniform showed him to be an officer of the 
Imperial Police, in whose hands are supposed to repose 
the safety and well-being of the Russian Empire. 
Several decorations were displayed on the breast of his 
closely-buttoned coat, indicating that he had performed 
services at different times or possessed sufficient influ- 
ence to secure these marks of distinction. Two gen- 
darmes or soldiers, who carried rifles with fixed bay- 
onets, were close at his heels, and a little distance from 
the house, were four mounted Cossacks, one of whom 
was holding the horse of their commander. 

Evidently, the party was prepared for resistance, if 
any were offered, as the four Cossacks kept their bands 
on their weapons, as though awaiting a signal. 

“What is wanted, Your Excellency?” said the man 
with the candle, as the other entered the door. 

“ Carl Pushkin,” said the officer, “ I arrest you, in 
the name of the Czar. It is the order of His Imperial 
Majesty.” 

The man bowed his head and made no reply. Use- 
less to ask for what reason he had been thus aroused 
at midnight, and placed under arrest. The will of the 
Emperor is supreme, and whatever he commands 
must be obeyed, at least, such is the belief of his loyal 
and devoted subjects. But not all who live beneath 
the shadow of the wings of the Two-headed Eagle can 
be counted as loyal and devoted, and sometimes they 
venture to deny the autocratic power of the “ Great 
White Czar.” 


A MIDNIGHT ARREST IN RUSSIA. 


9 


In which category should the prisoner be considered ? 
We shall see at a later period in our story. 

His hand trembled as it clutched the candle and his 
face grew whiter than it had been before. From the 
room beyond the hall- way where he stood came the 
sound of wailing, and it did not require a practised ear 
to discern that the grief-stricken one was a woman. 

The officer paused until Carl could sufficiently con- 
trol himself to ask if he must go at once. 

“Yes, see chass,” (immediately) was the reply. 

Without a word, Carl turned towards the inner room 
and was followed by the officer. The soldiers remained 
where they had been standing. Carl embraced his 
wife and children, who had been roused by the knock- 
ing at the door and the voice of the officer, and the air 
was filled with lamentations. The leave-taking was so 
long that the officer grew impatient ; he was accus- 
tomed to scenes of this kind and remained quite un- 
moved by the grief that surrounded him. 

“ Poshol ! Poshol ! (Hurry up! hurry up!)” he 
exclaimed, “ we cannot be waiting here all night. 
Hurry up !” 

The farewells were cut short. Carl donned his coat 
and cap, took his overcoat from a peg, where it had been 
hanging in the hall, tightened his waist-belt, slipped on 
his boots, and otherwise completed his toilet, which had 
been partially and hastily made before he opened the 
door. Then, after another quick embrace of his family, 
he signified his readiness to follow his captor. The 
latter led the way to the door, gave his prisoner into 
the custody of the soldiers, ordered that no one should 
come out of the house until morning, and then closed 
the door and joined the waiting Cossacks. 

The incident just described, occurred in the “guber- 


10 


THE SIBERIAN EXILES. 


nium ” or province, of Tambov, in Russia, in the year 
1 8 — . Tamboy is in that part of the empire known as 
Great Russia, and is almost wholly devoted to agricul- 
ture and the raising of cattle and horses for the mar- 
kets of Moscow and Nijni Novgorod. In some of the 
larger towns there are factories for the production of 
cloth, and there are distilleries, forges, and a few other 
establishments where manufacturing is carried on. Of 
all the manufacturing industries of Tambov, that of 
distilling is the most important ; and the same may be 
said of many other provinces of Russia. Distilling is 
encouraged, because it brings a high revenue to the 
government ; the consumption of the product of the 
distilleries is encouraged for the reason that a people 
sunk in drunkenness is more easily controlled than a 
temperate, thoughtful and ambitious one. The man 
who leads a riotous, idle and besotted life, is rarely sus- 
pected of disloyalty ; suspicion falls only on him who 
is abstemious, industrious and upright in his ways of 
life. 

Carl Pushkin was a thrifty and prosperous farmer or 
small landholder of Tambov, about twenty miles from 
the provincial capital, which is of the same name as 
that of the province. He was a careful and intelligent 
cultivator and, furthermore, derived a good revenue 
from a mill, which he built, for grinding the grain pro- 
duced in the neighborhood. He had a fair education, 
in fact, a good one for a Russian of his class, and his 
advice was often sought by his neighbors and the peas- 
ants in the nearest villages. 

In the opinion of all who knew him, he was so much 
occupied with his farming and the work of his mill, 
that he had little time for anything else. He subscribed 
for the weekly newspaper, published at Tambov, and 


A MIDNIGHT AKEEST IN RUSSIA. 


11 


also for the Moscow Gazette, but the sum of all the 
intelligence received from these publications was not 
great. A Russian newspaper can only publish what is 
permitted by the censor, and sometimes it is restricted 
to little else than advertisements, essays upon agricul- 
ture and manufacturing, and the movements of court 
officials. The rigor of the censorship varies from time 
to time, publication being permitted in one year of 
what is prohibited in another. At the time of which 
we write, the censorship was severe, as revolutionary 
movements were in progress and many persons were 
under suspicion. Consequently, the news which reached 
Carl Pushkin’s house was not of an exciting character, 
especially as the two papers for which he subscribed 
were known as devoted servants of the Imperial Gov- 
ernment. 

Carl’s father was a landed proprietor at Tambov at 
the time of the emancipation of the serfs, in i86i, and, 
like many others of his class, he was ruined by the liber- 
ation of the men who had formerly been obliged to give 
a considerable portion of their time to the cultivation 
of his estate, with very little reward for their labor. 
Probably his intemperate habits and his fondness for 
the gaming table, had more to do with his financial 
ruin than the Emancipation Act of Alexander II., but 
the latter served as an excuse for all kinds of misfor- 
tunes. 

At the death of the elder Pushkin, Carl came into 
possession of the estate, which was heavily burdened 
with debt, and evinced to the most casual observer the 
bad way in which it had been managed. Carl sold a 
part of the estate to pay the most pressing of the debts 
and settle the claims of his brothers and sisters, and 
by the tiix^ he had put his affairs into a manageable 


12 


THE SIBERIAN EXILES. 


shape, there was not a great deal to manage. But his 
industry and intelligence were rewarded as the years 
went on, so that he was, as already stated, in pros- 
perous circumstances at the time when our story 
opened with his summary arrest. 

Near where the four Cossacks were standing, there 
was a tarantass or travelling carriage, to which two 
horses were attached. At a word from the officer, Carl 
stepped inside the vehicle ; one of the soldiers took the 
place at his side and the other mounted the box with 
the driver. Two of the Cossacks took their position in 
front of the tarantass, and the other two in the rear 
with the officer ; then the order to march was given, 
and at a brisk trot the party quickly disappeared in the 
direction of the town of Tambov. 

A brisk trot over the ordinary road of Russia means 
a great deal of jolting. The tarantass is a large, roomy 
carriage, bearing a general resemblance to a victoria of 
rude construction. It has a hood that can be lowered 
or raised according to the condition of the weather and 
the desire of the occupants to have the air admitted or 
excluded ; an apron is usually attached to the front 
of the hood, so that the occupants can shut themselves 
in as completely as in a brougham or a landau. Instead 
of being supported on steel or leather springs, it rests 
on two poles, which extend from one axle to the other, 
and these poles are sometimes ten or twelve feet in 
length. There is a fair amount of elasticity to these 
poles, but when compared with the steel springs of 
English or American vehicles, they leave much to be 
desired. 

Despite the jolting, which often threw him violently 
against his companion and guard, Carl Pushkin was 
very busy with his thoughts during that night’s ride to 


A MIDNIGHT AREEST IN RUSSIA. 13 

the provincial capital. He ran over every act of his 
life, especially during the past few years, and endeav- 
ored to settle upon the cause of his arrest. It was evi- 
dent that some one had denounced him and brought 
him into his present trouble. 

“ I cannot remember that I’ve wronged any of my 
neighbors or anybody else ; at any rate, I’ve tried to 
deal justly by all. Of course, I may have harmed 
somebody without intending it, and so caused myself to 
be denounced. 

“ I’ve submitted to every extortion of the officials 
without a complaint ; it was the easiest way out of the 
difficulty and the cheapest. Every time one of them 
has wished to ‘ borrow ’ of me, he has found me ready 
to ‘ lend,’ and not one of the loans has ever been repaid, 
nor have I asked that it should be. 

“ Well, it may be that — but, no, that can hardly be 
possible ; I’ll try to think of something else.” 

In due time the tarantass stopped in front of the pro- 
vincial prison of Tambov. Day was just breaking, or 
rather, the first streaks of dawn were visible in the 
East, but there was hardly sufficient light to discern 
more than the outlines of the grim walls that rose 
against the sky. Sentinels were pacing up and down 
the pathway in front of the doors of the prison ; the 
night was chilly and each soldier wore a long, gray 
overcoat, which forms a part of the military uniform 
from one end of the empire to the other. Like ghosts, 
the gray forms came and went, as the men moved along 
the space marked out for their ceaseless tramp, until 
the hour for their relief. Like a silhouette against the 
sky, another sentinel was visible, pacing his round upon 
the top of the prison wall. So much vigilance betok- 


14 


THE SIBEEIAH EXILES. 


ened that every precaution was taken against the escape 
of the unwilling dwellers inside these walls of stone. 

The Cossacks closed around the tarantass and the 
order to descend was given. The two soldiers stepped 
to the ground and Carl followed their example ; then, 
with a soldier at each side, and preceded by the officer, 
who had dismounted and given his horse once more to 
the care of the Cossacks, Carl reached the door of the 
prison. As he halted and waited for the opening of the 
portal, Carl Pushkin shuddered as the question rose in 
his mind : 

“ How long shall I remain in these walls, and where 
shall I go when I leave them behind V* 



CHAPTER II. 


SCENE AFTER PUSHKIN’S ARREST. 

There was little sleep in the house of the Puskins for 
the rest of the night of Carl’s arrest. Mother and 
children were wakeful with grief at the calamity which 
had come so suddenly upon them. The elder children 
tried to console their mother with hopeful words, and 
partially succeeded at intervals, but whenever she gave 
play to her thoughts her sorrow broke out afresh. 

“ Don’t cry, mother,” said Ivan, the eldest, a robust 
young man of twenty, as he twined his arms about her 
neck. “ Don’t cry. I’m sure there’s a great mistake 
somewhere, and it will soon be found out. Father will 
be back here with us in a day or two.” 

Nadia, a rosy-cheeked girl of nineteen, added her 
efforts to those of her brother, and gave utterance to 
hopes like those we have just heard from his lips. 

“ Yes, yes,” was the reply, “ there has been a mistake, 
of course, there has been a mistake. But mistakes are 
not easily corrected in this country, and your poor 
father may be years in prison before the blunder that 
sent him there is found out.” 


[15] 


16 


THE SIBERIAN EXILES. 


“ No, mother, it can’t be as bad as that, indeed it 
can’t,” said Ivan. “ I’m sure we’ll see dear father at 
home in a day or two. I’m sure of it.” 

The mother was about to speak, but prudence 
restrained her and she was silent. It is dangerous for 
a Russian to talk about politics, even to the members 
of his own household, lest they, innocently, reveal to 
the ears of a prying spy, something that has been said 
in an unguarded moment. 

The woman’s despondency and silence were construed 
by Ivan to mean that possibly his mother might know 
of something that had compromised his father with the 
authorities. He was an intelligent youth, had a good 
idea of the political condition of the country for one of 
his years, and knew quite well that a very trivial cir- 
cumstance is sufficient to bring the police about a 
household. And when the officers of the Imperial police 
make their appearance, they do pretty much as they 
like. 

His faith in his father’s loyalty and integrity were as 
firm as a rock, and the most positive evidence would 
have been required to shake it in the smallest degree. 
When his mother remained silent, and showed so much 
trepidation, he felt that she was needlessly alarmed, 
and redoubled his efforts to comfort her. 

“ Don’t feel so badly, dear mother,” he said plead- 
ingly. “ Father knows all the officials at Tombov and 
I’ve heard him speak of them as his friends. Just as 
soon as they find he has been arrested, they will help 
him out of his trouble and we shall be out of ours. I’m 
as certain as I am of anything in the world, that he will 
be back at home before the week is out.” 

Madame Pushkin shook her head and made no reply. 


CARL PUSHKIN’S ARRIVAL AT THE PRISON.— S'ee Page 14 









.-^v* T-' 

L 4 ^: •<. ■ • ^^.-rA : hi 


MW v ', - V ^ 



» ( 





-r ;^'..n : ■. ■ '■'>■■ , ■' 


■ iv 

« "^y ytr 

k''*y 


\' 









• '•• • V' ^ • ■ ' . •• 

■■ ' > , ■ . ^ .■ 

L *, *^ \*'. * • ’ ^ A' :■ V . ‘ . 




SCENE AFTER PUSHKINAS ARREST. 


17 


She could not share in her son’s hopefulness, but did not 
wish to say so in words. 

I will go to Tambov to-morrow, and see the 
governor,” said Ivan, “ and I know he will set this mat- 
ter right.” 

“ Yes, you and I will go with Ivan,” said Nadia, “ and 
I am sure the governor will send father home with us 
when he sees how much we miss him and how we are 
distressed at what has happened.” 

In spite of her grief, the mother smiled at Nadia’s 
suggestion, which evinced complete ignorance of Rus- 
sian official ways. That the governor of the province 
vrould be influenced by the tears and pleadings of 
women might be a very natural thought for a young 
girl, but it was quite contrary to practical experience. 

The typical official of Russia is not a man of tender 
heart ; rather is he cast in the mould of the tiger or the 
crocodile, and the emotions of pity or sympathy are 
quite unknown to him. He is a worthy disciple of 
Peter the Great, whose name is famous in history for 
what he accomplished in bringing his country out of 
barbarism and making it one of the nations of Europe. 
Was Peter cast in a tender mould ? All the world 
knows how he worked as a common laborer in ship- 
yards, that he might instruct his people in maritime 
ways ; but does all the world know that he sent his own 
son to be executed ? And does it know that he person- 
ally assisted on the scaffold and wielded the sword 
when the soldiers who rebelled against his authority 
were beheaded ? The official for whom the great Peter 
stood as a model, is unlikely to heed the tears or the 
supplications of women, especially when he remembers 
that his illustrious prototype imprisoned his own sister 
in a convent until her death. 


18 


THE SIBERIAN EXILES. 


The younger children clung to their mother’s side 
and joined their tears with hers. Though too young 
to comprehend the trouble that had come upon the 
household, they realized that something terrible had 
happened, they saw their father taken away by tlie 
soldiers after he had embraced and kissed them, and 
when they saw their mother and Ivan and Nadia weep- 
ing, they joined in the general lamentation. The 
sorrow spread to all the servants of the household, and 
to none was it more poignant than to the old nurse, 
Francesca. 

She had been with the family since her birth. She 
was a serf on the estate before the Emancipation ; she 
had held Carl in her arms when he was an infant, had 
seen him reach manhood, saw the evil ways into which 
his father fell, was present at his death, and saw the 
young master take possession of the remnant of the 
property and build it up to its prese*nt condition of 
prosperity. She had cared for his children, one by 
one, had loved him as an old servant loves a kind mas- 
ter, and knew that as long as he lived she would never 
be turned away. 

Francesca cried as did the rest, and for a while her 
grief was uncontrolled. But at length her sense of 
responsibility occurred to her, and she dried her tears as 
quickly as possible. 

Come away, my dears,” she said to the younger 
children, as they clung to their mother’s side. ” Come 
away and go with me.” 

” Go with Francesca, children,” said the mother. 
“ Go with her and leave me with Ivan and Nadia.” 

They obeyed, though reluctantly. Russian children 
are trained to obedience far more than those of Eng- 
land or America. The ‘‘ spoiled child,” so common in 


SCENE AFTER PUSHKIn’s ARREST. 


19 


American households, is not easy to find in the land of 
the Czar ; and as for the enfant terrible" he is practi- 
cally unknown. 

Francesca led away her charges after each had 
kissed their mother and tenderly embraced her. Soon 
as they were alone with the nurse, the eldest said : 

“ What is all the trouble about, Matiushka, (Little 
Mother) and why does mamma cry so ? Why did the 
soldiers take papa away ?” 

“ That’s what I don’t know, my darlings,” was the 
reply, but I am sure he will be back again very soon.” 

“ Is mother as sure as you are, Matiushka, and is Ivan 
and Nadia ?” 

“ Certainly, my darlings ; didn’t you hear Ivan say 
so ?” 

“Yes, I know he said so, but if papa is coming back 
soon, why does mother cry so hard ?” 

“ That I cannot tell you, darling, but I suppose it’s 
because it all came so suddenly. Now go to sleep, like 
good children, and don’t think any more about it. 
Your grandpapa was taken away just like this, two or 
three times that I remember, and he came back the 
next day.” 

“ Oh ! if that’s so. I’ll go to sleep. Good-night 1” 
And in a few minutes the child was sleeping peacefully. 

Francesca was not altogether truthful in comparing 
the arrest of Carl Pushkin to the arrests, by no means 
unfrequent, of his father, as the latter were the result 
of his performances while grossly intoxicated or in 
consequence of the persistence of creditors, who were 
obliged to resort to the stern measures of the law to 
secure the adjustment of their claims. But, under the 
circumstances, her deception was pardonable and no 
one will censure her for it. She may have had no 


20 


THE SIBERIAN EXILES. 


familiarity with the pernicious adage, “All’s fair in love 
and war,” but she regarded everything as perfectly 
proper, when it came to putting children to sleep. 
Many a mother and many a nurse, outside of Russia, 
will fully agree with her. 

But though the children slumbered, Francesca was 
wakeful, in fact, she did not close her eyes in sleep for 
the rest of the night. Several times she crept to the 
door of the room where Madame Pushkin remained 
with Ivan and Nadia, to ascertain if they had yet 
retired ; as long as she heard their voices, she kept 
about and puzzled her brain in thinking what she 
could do to comfort them. Her son, Joseph, slept in a 
distant part of the house ; he was the “ man-of-all-work ” 
about the place, a sturdy fellow of some twenty-five 
years, and ready to give his life, if needed, in the service 
of his master or mistress. 

Joseph had slept through all the tumult of the arrest, 
no one having thought to call him, and his room being 
so far away that no ordinary sounds were likely to 
reach him. When Francesca was at her wit’s end in 
regard to the unusual occurrence of the night, she 
decided to awaken her son and tell him the news. 

“Joseph ! Joseph !” she called softly at his door. 

There was no response, and after waiting a few 
seconds, she called, out again. 

Joseph slept soundly ; he had spent the evening with 
some of his friends at the nearest lafka (drinking shop), 
and was, therefore, in a slumberous condition. Fran- 
cesca found it necessary to enter the room and shake 
him before she could make him understand, and even 
then his intellect was somewhat clouded. He listened 
in a dazed way to her account of the arrest, but when 
he fully realized that his master had been carried away 


SCENE AETEE PUSHKINAS AEREST. 


21 


to prison, he was fully awake and ready for anything 
desperate. 

But desperation was of no account, as the prisoner 
was then far on his road to Tambov, if not already there 
and inside the walls of the prison. Joseph was of such 
pugnacious mould, that he might have ventured, single- 
handed, upon an attempt at rescue, if the arresting 
party had been in front of the house at the time he was 
fully roused from sleep and heard his mother’s story. 

He proposed to take one of the horses and go in pur- 
suit of the party, but Francesca reminded him that no 
one was to leave the house until morning. Then he 
wanted to go to his mistress and ask if she wished him 
to start at daybreak for Tambov, and if so, he would 
have everything in readiness, but from this he w^as dis- 
suaded. A hundred other schemes entered his head, 
but all were set aside by his mother, who at length con- 
cluded that her son would be all the better in the morn- 
ing, if he could sleep through the rest of the night. So 
she left him, and as the voices were no longer audible 
in the room whose door she had so often visited, there 
was nothing more to be done. She went to bed, but 
only a little while before the dawn. 

Joseph was an excellent specimen of a Russian peas- 
ant. He had the courage of a lion with the simplicity 
of a child, the fidelity and strength of the mastiff with 
the gentleness of the dove. To serve his master, there 
was nothing he would not undertake, but, if left to him- 
self, he was without resource ; he had the courage and 
daring to execute anything be was commanded to do, 
but he had not the skill to plan. This characteristic is 
noticeable among the Russian peasants more than with 
any other people of the world. It is this that makes 
them such a sturdy reliance when trained as soldiers ; 


22 


THE SIBERIAN EXILES. 


this is the quality that carried them up the heights of 
Inkermann, over the walls of Plevna, and through the 
Shipka Pass, to the astonishment and admiration of 
their foes. It is this element in their nature that has 
enabled them to conquer Northern and Central Asia, 
and may yet carry them to the shores of the Indian Sea. 

Madame Pushkin had listened to the entreaties of 
Ivan and Nadia, and gone to bed, and they did likewise 
as soon as she had retired. But sleep did not come 
easily to anyone of the three and least of all, to the 
mother. Several times she fell into a troubled slumber, 
accompanied by frightful dreams, from which she 
waked with a start and found beads of perspiration cov- 
ering her forehead, although the night was far from 
warm. Ivan and Nadia suffered in the same way, but to 
much less extent ; in times of trouble, sleep is more 
kindly to the young than to those whose years are far 
beyond the teens. 

Ivan had spent a year or more in the University of 
Moscow, and returned thence for his vacation only two 
weeks before the incident with which our story opens. 

Throughout Russia the University students have 
been the cause of much trouble to the government. 
Not infrequently a University may be closed and the 
students sent to their homes, because of suspicions of 
liberal tendencies ; arrests of students on suspicion of 
connection with plots to overthrow the government are 
of frequent occurrence, and not a few who have begun 
their careers in the great schools of instruction, have 
ended them in prison or in Siberian exile. A close 
watch is kept upon all the professors and teachers, lest 
they inculcate sentiments of disloyalty in the minds of the 
youths under their care. In order to hold their places, 
these men must give proof of unbounded and undevi- 


SCENE AFTER PUSHKINAS ARREST. 


23 


ating loyalty and a readiness to support with enthusiasm 
all acts of the government, no matter how repugnant 
they may be to fair-minded men. But, in spite of all 
care, the students do not always follow the lines of 
thought laid out for them ; they persist in thinking for 
themselves and in making their own deductions from 
the events of the day or of other times. 



CHAPTER III. 

VISITING A PRISONER. 

The arrest of Carl Pushkin became known among his 
neighbors on the day that followed it. In any other 
country it would have been the subject of a great deal 
of gossip, but that is not the case in Russia. Comment 
upon official action is not encouraged, and if persisted 
in, is apt to lead to unpleasant consequences. The dis- 
covery of a bear in the forest, or the abduction of a 
sheep by a wolf, would have led to far more local talk 
than did the arrest and imprisonment of Carl Pavloff. 

As an illustration of the way in which the government 
exercised its power of exiling its subjects without trial, 
the following story will prove interesting. 

When the Grand Duke Alexis of Russia visited the 
United States, he had upon his staff a young naval 
officer named Staniukovitch, who was very popular with 
those who met him in New York and other American 
cities. His father was a Russian admiral and the young 
man was considered one of the most promising men of 
his age. He had special fondness for literature, and after 
his return home from the tour with the Grand Duke, 
he resigned his official position and turned his attention 
to authorship. 

He wrote several novels and plays which were suc- 
[24J 


VISITING A PRISONER. 


25 


cessful, and afterwards he bought a Russian magazine, 
called the “ Diello,” and published it in St. Petersburg. 
He became editor and proprietor of the “Diello ” and, 
in 1884, went abroad to arrange about foreign contri- 
butions to his publication. In the autumn of that year 
he started back to St. Petersburg, leaving his wife and 
children in Germany. 

As soon as he crossed the Russian frontier he was 
arrested and taken to prison in St. Petersburg, the 
famous prison of Petropavlovsk, where so many politi- 
cal and other victims of Russian authority have been 
incarcerated. He was not allowed to inform his wife of 
his arrest or to communicate with any of his friends in 
the capital city. His wife continued writing regularly 
to him, but became alarmed when she received no 
replies to her letters. She telegraphed to the managing 
editor of the magazine, who answered that Mr. Stan- 
iukovitch had not been in St. Petersburg, and they sup- 
posed he was still in Germany. Then she hurried, with 
her children, to Russia, and after some weeks, was 
able to learn that her husband was in prison. She 
could not then ascertain upon what charge, but it was 
afterwards found out that he had been in correspond- 
ence with a well known Russian writer, who was then 
in Switzerland. The correspondence related entirely to 
literary matters, but this was sufficient for the govern- 
ment to arrest the editor of the magazine in the 
manner described. He was sent to Siberia for three 
years, his magazine was suspended, and the gentleman 
was financially ruined. There was no trial or even the 
shadow of one ; everything was done upon somebody’s 
order and in the most secret manner. 

In his trouble, Ivan went to one of their neighbors, 
who was an especial friend of his father, and sought his 


26 


THE SIBERIAN EXILES. 


aid and counsel. This neighbor, Mr. Hartmann, was 
descended from one of the German emigrants who 
settled in Ru.ssia during the time of Catherine the 
Great. Though German in blood, Mr. Hartmann was a 
native-born Russian. His father and grandfather were 
also born in the Empire of the Czar, and he was so far 
Russianized that he was unable to speak the language 
of Berlin. 

Mr. Hartmann had already heard of the arrest, and 
his greeting of the youth was full of sympathy. The 
Hartmann and Pushkin families were intimately ac- 
quainted ; Mr. Hartmann’s son, Alexei, was engaged 
to Nadia Pushkin and the wedding was to take place in 
the coming year. 

“ What can have been the cause of my father’s arrest, 
do you think ?” was the first question addressed by 
Ivan to his older friend. 

“ I cannot possibly guess,” was the reply, “ but never 
mind the cause of it, the thing to consider is, how 
to obtain your father’s release as soon as possible.” 

“ That’s true,” said Ivan, “ and now tell me what 
I shall do ?” 

“ Has your father any ready money or any property 
that can be converted into cash ?” 

“I don’t know,” answered Ivan, “but why do you 
ask ?” 

Mr. Hartmann smiled, and then his face assumed 
a serious aspect. 

“ Of course, you are too young yet to know much 
about it,” he said, “ but you will soon learn that in this 
country of ours, very little can be done except by the 
fise of money. Officials may be, bribed to do anything, 
provided the bribery will not lead to their detection by 
a higher authority, except where they receive enough 


VISITING A PEISONEE. 


27 


money in hand to divide with the one who might bring 
them into trouble. Very often they require bribes to 
induce them to do their duty ; and altogether, tfie 
system of government rests upon the payment of 
money through nearly every grade of official life.” 

“I wonder the Czar allows such a system to con- 
tinue,” said Ivan. 

“ The Czar is responsible for it,” replied Mr. Hart- 
mann. 

“ How can that be possible ?” 

“ Because the pay of all officers is so miserably small, 
that they cannot support their families or even support 
themselves as single men upon their salaries. They 
must add to their revenues in some way or starve, 
unless they have private fortunes of their own, and the 
easiest way of increasing their revenues is by the 
system of bribery I have mentioned.” 

“ I think, too,” continued Mr. Hartmann, “ that 
the Czar could not put a stop to it, if he wished to.” 

“ He might issue an imperial ukase forbidding it,” 
pleaded Ivan. 

“ That was what a distinguished foreigner once said 
to the Emperor Nicholas,” Mr. Hartmann responded, 
“ and t he Em peror’s answer was, that in order to have 
such a ukase carried out he would have to bribe 
his';^ime minister to enforce it.” 

“ Now, in regard to your father’s case, I ask about 
ready money, because I know that somebody will have 
to be bribed.” 

“ Isn’t it possible that he was arrested so that some- 
body would be able to get money in just that way ?” 

“ That is quite possible and even probable. Such 
things have happened before and a great many times ; 
as for the matter of that, they are not confined to 


28 


THE SIBERIAN EXILES. 


ELiissia, though we have far more than our share in 
consequence of the greater ease with which a black- 
mailing arrest may be concealed. The large cities 
of the countries that boast the greatest freedom, 
England and the . United States, have, had instances 
of this sort, and if they can have them, how much more 
should we expect them in an autocracy where exile by 
administrative process prevails.” 

Returning to the immediate subject before them, 
Mr. Hartmann said it might be necessary to bribe the 
officials to find that the arrest was a mistake, and that 
Carl Pavloff Pushkin was apprehended in place of 
some other Carl Pavloff, for whom the police were 
looking. If there were any difficulties about this plan, 
it might be arranged to bribe the jailer to allow Push- 
kin to escape in the night. The escape might be dis- 
covered in the morning and the pursuit would be care- 
fully turned in the direction opposite to that taken by 
the man who was running away. This is done more 
frequently than the general public is aware, and though 
there is a great show of zeal in following an escaped 
prisioner, he runs very little risk of being actually 
retaken. 

As a preliminary, it was necessary to have an inter- 
view with the prisoner, and this would require that the 
jailer should receive a suitable present from whoever 
visited him. Before calling upon the prison-keeper, it 
would be necessary to have a permit from the Chief of 
Police in Tambov ; of course, it would facilitate matters 
if the Chief received in some manner a substantial 
token of respect and esteem in the shape of cash. 

Ivan thanked Mr. Hartmann for his advice and sug- 
gested that he would go at once to his mother and see 
what could be done about raising the needed money. 


VISITING A PRISONER. 


29 


“ Do nothing of the kind,” said Mr. Hartmann, “ but 
go with me to Tambov to-morrow and see your father.” 

“ But how about the money for the Chief of Police 
and the keeper of the prison ?” 

“ Oh ! I’ll attend to that,” was the reply, as it will not 
be a serious matter. A hundred rubles to the Chief and 
twenty- five to the jailer; that’s a mere trifle. .to_ what 
will have to be paid when we talk of release or escape.” 

It was arranged that they would start early the next 
morning so as to be in Tambov in time to have the day 
before them. Mr. Hartmann would take Ivan in his 
own tarantass, and they would easily get over the 
thirty versts, or twenty miles, inside of three hours. 
By setting out at four o’clock, they would be in T^b.ov.~. 
by seven, and this would be ample season to arrange 
for the interview. 

Ivan was about to hurry away to tell his mother the 
plan, but Mr. Hartmann stopped him. 

“ Tell your mother this and nothing more,” said the 
gentleman. “ You and I are going to Tambov to see 
your father ; that’s all. If she asks you what our plans 
are, tell her you don’t know. Actually, you don’t 
know, nor do I, as the plan must depend very much 
upon things as we find them. Don’t trouble yourself 
about money, as I will have enough for all present 
needs.” 

Ivan comforted his mother with the information that 
they would go to Tambov on the morrow, and told her 
that the start would be made very early. He was to 
be ready at four o’clock, and Mr. Hartmann would be 
there with his tarantass at that hour or soon after. No 
time would be lost by this arrangement, as the Push- 
kin house lay directly on the road from Mr. Hartmann’s 
to Tambov, 


30 


THE SIBERIAN EXILES. 


Mrs. Pushkin gave her son several verbal messages to 
deliver to his father, messages of love and affection, 
which it is unnecessary to repeat. Then she told Ivan 
that he had better retire early, in order to be up and 
ready at the hour when Mr. Hartmann was expected. 
She suggested that the suit of clothes he was to wear 
would need to be freshly brushed and possibly might 
require a few stitches. She would attend to this and 
send the garments to his room by one of the servants, 
so that he could have them ready for putting on when 
he rose. 

Nadia wished to be of use and asked her mother 
what she could do. 

“ Nothing, my child,” was the reply. ‘‘Yes, you may 
write a letter to your father and that will comfort him. 
Ivan can carry it, and it must be left open, so that the 
prison -keeper can read it before it is delivered.” 

Nadia hastened to her room to write the letter. Mrs. 
Pushkin suggested that Ivan could occupy the remain- 
ing hours of the day in attending to certain details of 
the work about the place that ordinarily came under 
his father’s care ; and the youth went out to do as his 
mother advised. 

The woman embraced the opportunity given by the 
absence of Ivan and Nadia to write a letter, which she 
placed in the skirt of Ivan’s overcoat. It was written 
on the thinnest of paper, and covered both sides of a 
closely-written half sheet, and then it was wrapped in 
another piece of paper covered with printed characters. 
To conceal it, she ripped the lining of the overcoat at 
the bottom, and then stitched the paper where the 
material was turned up to meet the lining. Enough of 
the turned up portion was cut away to make room for 
the folded slip, and when the work was completed, it 


VISITING A PRISONER. 


31 


would require the most minute inspection to discover 
that anything was hidden there. 

She had just finished the work, when Ivan returned. 
Then she turned her attention to the buttons of the 
coat and took a few stitches here and there, where they 
were apparently needed. 

The other garments received due attention, and were 
sent to Ivan’s room before he retired. Nadia’s letter 
was completed and securely placed in the youth’s 
pocket, and everything was ready for the early depart- 
ure as previously arranged. 

On arriving at Tambov, Mr. Hartmann and Ivan went 
at once to the office of the Chief of Police. Though it 
was early in the day, that officer was already at his post, 
and after a little delay, Mr. Hartmann and Ivan were 
ushered into his presence. 

After the customary salutations, Mr. Hartmann ex- 
plained that they desired to have an interview with Carl 
Pavloff, surnamed Pushkin, now in prison in Tambov, 
and the father of the young man who accompanied him. 

The man of authority said the rules of the prison 
were very severe, and he was uncertain whether the 
desired interview could be granted. As he spoke, he 
threw away the papiros (cigarette) he was smoking and 
began to turn over the papers that lay on his desk. 

Mr. Hartman drew from his pocket a cigarette case 
and proffered it to the officer. The latter took the case 
and as he did so, Mr. Hartman turned to Ivan and 
called his attention to a picture at the farther end of 
the room, in a direction quite opposite to where the 
Chief of Police was sitting. 

Naturally Ivan looked at the picture, and naturally 
too, Mr. Hartmann’s eyes were upon it at the same time. 
The picture interested both of them quite long enough 


82 


TfiSl SIBERIAN EXILES. 


to give an excellent opportunity for the official to take 
a papiros from Hartman’s case, and with it a note of 
the Imperial Bank of Russia for a hundred rubles, 
that had been rolled into the shape of a cigarette and 
placed among the dozen or more cigarettes in the box 
“for safety.” The real cigarette could be lighted at 
once, and the imitation one could go into the official 
pocket for future use. 

Russian paper money is not like that of the United 
States and some other countries, printed in a single 
color. A considerable part of the population is unable 
to read, and for the convenience of the unlettered in- 
habitants, the different denominations of the National 
bank notes are of different colors. It is easy for an un- 
educated man to know the value of a note by the com- 
plexion of the ink with which it is printed, and easy for 
an educated official to know the denomination of a note 
offered him as a bribe, when it is rolled in the form of 
a cigarette, or otherwise left unfolded. Did the de- 
signer of the Russian currency “ build wiser than he 
knew,” or did he know his constituency and its needs, 
and take his measures accordingly ? 

Did the official appropriate the money thus within 
his reach ? Who can tell ? No one saw him take it ; 
no one offered it to him ; no one traced the money to 
his possession. There is no proof of bribery, and the 
fact that Mr. Hartmann afterwards missed the money 
from the case, would not be taken as evidence in the 
court. 

“ I see no reason why the son of the prisoner should 
not be admitted to see his father,” said the Chief, as he 
swallowed the smoke from the cigarette and emitted it 
from his nostrils. “ He desires to be accompanied by 
you, an old friend of the family, I understand ?” 


VISITING A PRISONER. 


33 


“ Yes,” replied Mr. Hartmann, “ a friend and neigh- 
bor.” 

Permission to see the prisoner, Pushkin, was granted, 
and the callers departed with the precious document in 
their possession. 

At the door of the prison there was some delay while 
the permit was sent to the prison-keeper and returned. 
The door was opened and the visitors entered within 
the grim walls. They were taken directly to the keep- 
er’s office, where they were questioned concerning the 
object of their visit, put under oath not to convey to 
any one in the building articles of a contraband nature, 
and examined to make sure that nothing forbidden by 
the rules was in their possession. Ivan handed over 
to the keeper the letter which Nadia had written. The 
latter said he would read it and decide upon its disposi- 
tion before their visit was concluded. 

The guard was instructed to take them to cell 
number thirteen, where they had permission to remain 
for half an hour. 

As they rose to accompany him, Mr. Hartmann said : 

“ Can’t we leave our overcoats here ? The day is 
quite warm and we shall not need them.” 

“ Certainly, gentlemen,” replied the keeper, who may 
have construed the request as a hint that he would find 
something for his own use in the garments. Accord- 
ingly the overcoats were left in the keeper’s office and 
the visitors followed the guard in the direction indica- 
ted ; Ivan being of course quite in ignorance of the 
missive that was thus placed in peril. 



CHAPTER IV. 

A RUSSIAN PRISON. 

When they reached the cell where Pushkin was con- 
fined, the guard announced that there were visitors for 
number thirteen, and as he did so, he rapped on a 
heavy wooden door. Then he opened a panel about 
twelve inches square in the upper part of the door, and 
the face of the prisoner speedily appeared there. 

The visitors were warmly greeted and as soon as the 
door was opened by an under-keeper, who had followed 
at the heels of the party, they entered the apartment. 
Father and son embraced and kissed ; an embrace and 
kiss were exchanged between Pushkin and Hartmann, 
and then there were tears in the eyes of all three of 
the party. It was a joyous meeting and at the same 
time a sad one. 

Here is the room as it was described by Ivan to his 
mother. It may be taken as the type of the places 
where political prisoners are confined in the majority 
of the prisons in the cities of European Russia, In 
Siberia, the accommodations are much more restricted 
as the prisons are generally overcrowded, and some- 
times to such an extent as to cause great suffering and 
an unusual percentage of disease and death. 

[34] 



A EUSSIAN PEISON. 


35 


“ The room, or cell,” said Ivan, “ is about twelve feet 
long by ten in width, and the ceiling is, perhaps, seven 
feet from the floor. Walls and roof are of stone, and 
there is nothing under foot but the concrete or plaster, 
that is spread over the stone in a soft condition and 
smoothed off before it becomes hard. The door opens 
into it from a corridor, and at the other end of the cell 
is a window about one foot high and two feet long, 
which lets in some air and light, but not much of 
either. Outside the window there is a blank wall, the 
outer wall of the prison, and if the window could be 
reached, so that a prisoner might look out of it, he 
would see nothing but the wall and a very little of the 
sky. 

“ Some light comes in from the corridor,” continued 
Ivan, “ but there is not enough to enable one to read 
without difficulty ; in fact, the whole aspect of the place 
suggested a tomb more than a place for a man to live 
in. But, in spite of the somberness of his cell, father 
was cheerful, or tried to be so, and told me that you 
must bear up just as bravely as you could. 

“ There was nothing to sit upon but the bed, which 
was an iron frame fastened to the wall, and very firmly 
fastened, too. Close by the head of the bed is an iron 
slab, also fastened to the wall, and serving as a table ; 
and there is a stove in one corner that is fed through a 
door in the corridor. Each stove warms two cells, as it 
is partly in one cell and partly in the next. 

“ We sat on the edge of the bed and talked. The 
soldier who had come in with us, stood at the door ; 
evidently, he had orders to do so, as he did not move a 
muscle or say a word when Mr. Hartmann asked him 
to go outside. Mr. Hartmann slipped a ruble into his 
hand, and after he received it he paid no attention to 


36 


THE SIBERIAN EXILES. 


what we said, though he could not help hearing all our 
conversation when we spoke in an ordinary tone. But 
anything that was not intended for him to hear was 
said in a whisper, and to this whispering he made no 
objection. That was probably the effect of the ruble. 

“ I gave father all the messages you intrusted me 
with and told him about Nadia’s letter. Then he 
asked what we had done with our overcoats, and I told 
him they had been left in the keeper’s room, because 
the prison was so warm. 

“ He said he was afraid I should take cold in this 
damp place, without my overcoat, and suggested that I 
ask one of the under-keepers to go with me to bring it. 
I did so, and the man went with me to the office of the 
prison. I made a mistake, and got Mr. Hartmann’s 
coat on my arm, but when I found my blunder, I took 
both of them to the cell, with, of course, the keeper’s 
permission.” 

The reason of the keeper’s readiness to grant the 
desired permission to remove the coats was more 
apparent to Mr. Hartmann than to the youth. The 
former had left, “for safety,” twenty-five rubles in 
Imperial Bank-notes in the pocket of his overcoat, and 
later on in the day he ascertained that the money had 
disappeared. Who had taken it or whether it had fal- 
len out by accident he never knew. But it is certain 
that the prison-keeper was disposed to be civil and to 
extend the rules as far as possible. The time permit- 
ted for the visit expired, but he did not send word to 
that effect until nearly an hour afterwards. 

The soldier on guard looked in every direction save 
to where the three friends were seated on the side of 
the little bed. He could not remove from the spot, his 
orders were altogether too strict for that, but he was 


A RUSSIAN PRISON. 


37 


not obliged to keep his eyes fixed on his charge, and he 
did not. 

The letter was removed from its place of concealment 
and so deftly was the operation performed, while Push- 
kin was toying with the skirt of his son’s coat, that Ivan 
did not know it. The missive was kept out of sight un- 
till the departure of the visitors, and then Pushkin could 
read it at his leisure. 

No, not altogether at his leisure, as the occupant of a 
Russian prison is under constant surveillance. 

In the door of Pushkin’s cell, as in the doors of all 
cells in the political prisons in the empire, there is a hole 
about four inches long by half an inch in width, and so 
placed that it commands a view of the interior of the 
cell. This is called the “ Judas ” by the prisoners. It is 
covered with a piece of wood, hung upon a pivot, and the 
cover can be moved quite noiselessly. The guard can 
look in whenever he chooses, and the occupant never 
knows when he is being inspected. 

The guards walk along the corridors in felt boots, 
which are purposely worn in order that their footsteps 
may not be heard. 

The “Judas” in the door made it necessary that all 
reading should be done with the greatest circumspec- 
tion, except in the cases where it was permitted. In the 
present instance, Nadia’s letter furnished the reasonable 
excuse. The letter was given to Pushkin after his vis- 
itors had gone, the keeper having read it carefully and 
found nothing objectionable in it. 

The keeper had not contented himself with reading 
the letter, he had subjected it to various chemical tests j 
to make sure that there was no concealed writing upon | 
it. Russian revolutionists are well ver§ed.iii.chemjsJtry, i ~ 
and the most innocent letter in the world, so far as its i 


38 


THE SIBERIAN EXILES. 


ink is concerned, may contain something of great im- 
portance. The writing is done with colQtLeaS--acids.J:hat 
make not the slightest mark upon the paper ; after- 
wards, an apparently innocent letter is written on the 
sheet with common ink, and it is this letter that enables 
the document to travel without seizure. 

When the party who is in the secret receives such a 
letter, he finds somewhere in the innocent document a 
hints as to the proper method for finding the concealed 
writing. It may be developed before a fire or may 
require a solution of one acid or another. It is nec- 
essary to change the methods frequently, owing to the 
alertness of the police. Every letter sent or received 
is examined with the greatest care, and it is a con- 
stant battle of wits between the police and the pris- 
oners and their friends. 

Further on in our story we will consider some of the 
secret means by which political prisoners and refugees 
hold communication, in spite of the vigilance of their 
guards. 

Pushkin apparently read and re-read many times the 
letter from his daughter, when, in fact, he was holding 
between its folds the communication from his wife. 
He had already secreted, with great care, the printed 
slip, in which the letter was wrapped as the reader will 
remember. This printed slip was nothing more nor less 
than an Imperial Bank-note of a high denomination, 
which might be useful in many of the emergencies that 
occur in the life of a man under arrest in Russia. We 
^ have already seen^^a^tJOaiiney will do many thiiggs in 
'‘^'^*the land of despotism. It should not be understood 
that money can accomplish everything, as many a man 
has learned to his sorrow after making an unwise 
experiment, 


A RUSSIAN PRISON. 


30 


The letter which the wife sent to the husband and 
did not care to have her son knowingly carry, was 
mainly devoted to the subject which had occupied his 
thoughts during the ride to Tambov, the cause of his 
arrest. She did not believe that he had compromised 
himself with revolutionists or with any of those indi- 
viduals who might be considered “ prejudicial to social 
order,” nor did she think he had offended any of their 
influential neighbors or the officials with whom he had 
occasion to transact business from time to time. She 
had thought the subject over carefully, and settled 
upon what seemed to her the most probable, or rather 
the least impossible cause, and this she mentioned with 
the greatest hesitation. 

It was not at all that which had come into his mind 
during the ride to the prison, but something totally differ- 
ent. It gave him food for thought for the rest of the 
day and though all the hours of the night that followed. 

Immediately after leaving the prison, Mr. Hartmann 
sought a lawyer of Tambov, and engaged him to do all 
in his power in behalf of Carl Pavloff . Russia is not an 
encouraging field for a lawyer beyond the ordinary 
business of drawing legal papers, managing commercial 
affairs, collecting debts, adjusting disputes, and other- 
wise employing himself in a civil way. 

Down to the time of Ale xand er II. there was very 
little law^^pracdce outside of the civil courts, as the 
criminal affairs of the country were in the hands of the 
government officials. Alexander was a believer in 
open courts of justice, and established them after great 
opp'osition on the part of the Imperial Council. Per- 
sons charged with murder, robbery or kindred crimes, 
great or small, are tried in open court before judges 
who are paid by the Crown and forbidden to receive 


40 


THF: SIBERIAN EXILES. 


fees under any circumstances. There is a formal act 
of accusation ; the prisoner may confront accusers and 
witnesses ; he may be defended ; the jury may be 
chosen from among men of comfortable circumstances, 
having an income of not less than rive hundred rubles 
($250) a year ; and a majority of the jury can render 
a verdict. 

Criminal practice in these courts gives the Russian 
lawyers more business than formerly, and when the 
accused is a man of wealth, and the case is desperate, 
heavy fees are paid to counsel, just as in England or 
the United States. 

It was hoped that the establishment of the courts 
would do away with the old abuses, but injustice dies 
hard in whatever country it may exist. Though the 
judges and jurors are forbidden to receive fees, instances 
have occurred in which they have done so, and we have 
already seen that exile by administrative process, with- 
out a trial or even a hearing, is a common practice in 
Russia. 

The lawyer whom Mr. Hartmann engaged to look 
after Pushkin’s case, went at once to the Chancellerie 
in search of information. But though he pressed his 
inquiries in every quarter among the officials of that 
establishment, he was politely but firmly refused any 
particulars whatever, and when he left the place, he 
was no wiser than when he went there. He could not 
even ascertain whether any charges had been made 
against the prisoner, and was, therefore, quite unable to 
plan any course of action. To make a defence, it is 
necessary to have something to defend. 

The prison officials were equally ignorant or uncom- 
municative or both. All that the keeper of the prison 
would say, was that Carl Pavloff was in custody under 


A KUSSIAN PRISON. 


41 


the usual rules and would remain there until further 
orders. With the permission of the Chief of Police the 
lawyer might visit the prisoner, subject to the rules of 
the establishment governing cases of this kind. 

The day ended with very little progress in the 
direction of discovering why Carl Pavloff had been 
arrested or the probable disposition of his case. Mr. 
Hartmann and Ivan spent the night at a small gostin- 
itza (hotel), where the former had often lodged before. 
The accommodations were meagre, but such is the 
case in all the small hotels of Russia, and nobody 
thinks of complaining. The room that they occupied 
contained two broad benches or sofas, on which there 
was -a covering of straw, held in place by coarse cotton 
cloth, nailed along the edges of the board. These 
benches served as beds, and each patron was exp ected 
to p rovide his own bed clothing from the rugs aad. 
wraps carried in his tarantass. This is the custom 
througlTthe Interior of Russia ; it is onl y in th e cities 
that one can find beds in conformity with Western 
ideas . 

During the evening they were visited by an individ- 
ual who hesitated a while before saying who he was 
and only did so on the promise of secrecy. He hinted 
that he was a personage of much influence with the 
authorities, and finally came to business. 

“ How much w ould it be worth for Carl^ Pushkin to ^ 
be able to escape across the frontier ?” was the question 
he propounded. 

Mr. Hartmann was unable to answer. ^ 

“ He can get there for fifty thousand rubles,” said 
the man, “but the money must be ready and in my 
hands before he starts.” 


THE SIBERIAN EXILES. 


i2 


Then he unfolded his plan. He was a power behind 
the throne with the authorities in Tambov, and could 
arrange for a hearing in the case of the prisoner. 
This hearing would take place at the Chancellerie, at 
the request of Pushkin’s lawyer, and could be so pro- 
tracted that it would be dark before the affair was 
concluded. 

On the way back to the prison Pushkin could 
escape ; a carriage waiting around the corner would 
receive him, and^“with' a forged passport, describing him 
under another name, he could easily make his way to 
the frontier without question. Any pursuit that was 
undertaken would be directed quite opposite to where 
he would be found ; in fact, the whole affair should be 
discreetly managed from beginning to end. 

“ Think it over until to-morrow,” said he, as he rose 
to go, “ and you will certainly find it the best way out 
of the present difficulty. You will have to act soon, 
as there is no telling when an order will come for him 
to be taken elsewhere.” 

After he had gone, there were several minutes of 
silence, in which Hartmann and Ivan regarded each 
other thoughtfully. The former was the first to speak. 

“ That’s in accordance with what I told you yester- 
day,” said he to the youth. 

“ Yes, that’s so,” was the reply. “ And what do you 
think of his proposal ?” 

“ I can’t give an answer without considering several 
matters that present themselves. In the first place, the 
man may be an impostor, without the influence he 
pretends to have, and the whole thing a trick to extort 
money from us. In the second place, we want your 
father’s opinion, then that of the lawyer, and then, if 
we conclude to negotiate, we must have some assurance 


A RUSSIAN PRISON. 


43 


more than his mere word, that the plan will be carried 
out. We can do nothing about the matter until 
to-morrow. So now let us try to get some sleep.” 

Then they separated and each sought the rest he so 
much needed. 

Ivan was an earnest and voluminous reader, but, 
until he went to the University, his chances for reading 
were very limited. He greatly enjoyed his opportuni- 
ties at Moscow, and his experience at the University 
gave him more information about Russia and the rest 
of the world, than he had obtained in all the years 
down to the time when he left home. He read only 
such works as were “ approved,” but every book that he 
perused caused him to think, and thinking is exactly 
what is undesirable for a loyal subject of the autocracy 
of the Czar. 

One day Ivan took from the law library of the Uni- 
versity, a volume containing, among other things, the 
Imperial regulations concerning exile by administrative 
process. As he read his face changed color repeatedly. 
He was in his own room or this circumstance might 
have brought trouble upon him. And when he finally 
placed the book on his table, he remarked to himself : 

“Can it be possible that such a law really exists,^ 
tp^^ay ? I must have been reading something abou^f 
the centuries that are gone ; but, no, here is the imprir^ 
of the book in this very year. I will ask Kanchin about 
it. Here he comes.” 

Ivan had glanced from the window as he spoke and 
saw the form of that individual crossing the street in the 
direction of the house where our young friend lodged. 
He rightly judged that he was to be honored with a 
visit and, sure enough, in just sufficient time for the 
other to climb the stairs, there was a knock at the door. 




THE SIBERIAN EXILES. 


“ Come in,” Wd Ivan, cheerily. The door opened 
and the youths met and kissed as affectionately as 
school-girls. 

Men kiss each other in Russia very much as women 
do in America. It is an odd sight to American and 
English eyes to witness greetings and farewells 
between bearded fellows at railway stations and in 
other public places, but the Russians take it as a mat- 
ter of course. Sometimes the spectacle is quite comical 
and the stranger must tax his powers of self-control to 
avoid smiling. A pair of intoxicated mujiks have been 
known to prolong their affectionate osculations in the 
market place, when the thermometer was below zero, to 
such an extent, that their beards became frozen 
together from the congelation of their breath ; some- 
times the mass of beard is so thick on each of the faces 
brought together for a kiss, that considerable effort is 
required to bring the pairs of lips in contact. 

“ Sit down,” said Ivan to his friend, and as he said so, 
he proffered a cigarette. 

“ You have illustrated the truth of the old adage, that 
we speak of angels and hear their wings rustle immedi- 
ately. I was just saying to myself that I wanted to ask 
you a question, when I espied you crossing the street.” 

“Complimentary, I’m sure,” replied Kanchin, “to be 
taken for an angel. What was your question about ?” 

“ It was about exile by administrative process.” 

“ Well ?” 

“ I never heard of it before. Nobody that I know of 
was ever exiled from our neighborhood, and that’s prob- 
ably the reason why I never heard it talked about. 

“ I was reading yesterday,” continued Ivan, “ about 
the system of trials by jury, and how it was conducted, 
and to-day I read about the process of exiling a person 


A EUSSIAN PRISON. 


45 


from his home without_ai^ trial at all. I wanted to ask 
you if these systems do not interfere with each other.” 

“Not at all,” replied Kanchin ; “ trial by jury is one 
thing and exile wildipuLtriaLis an^^^ Trial by jury 
is something new ; while exile without trial is as old as 
the time of Peter the Great. The two systems work 
well together. When there is a clear case against a rjpen, 
he can be tried by jury and convicted, but when there 
is nothin g to go upon but suspicion, or very slender 
proof, then he can be exiled by the village Commune 
wherel^_liyes_or byjorder of the Minister' of the Inte- 
rior or upon complaint of any person of respectability.” 

“OhVthatV the way of it,” said Ivan. “I’m much 
obliged.” 

Then Kanchin went on to explain that in the o ld d^ s 
of s e^rfdom it frequently happened that a land -owner 
might have on his estate an idle, worthless serf, against 
whom it was difficult to bring any specific complaint, 
but whose presence was demoralizing to the rest of the 
people. The ownejr^ could easily rid himself of the 
man’s presence by going to the nearest police bureau 
and saying that he wished the serf sent to some other 
part of the empire. Forthwith the man was arrested 
and sent into exile, generally to Siberia, and the record 
against him was, that he was thus deported “ by the will 
of his master.” He might be required to remain there for 
a period, not exceeding five years ; if, at the expiration 
of his term, he returned to the estate and incurred his 
master’s displeasure, he could again be sent into exile 
for the same reason as before. 

“ I see the reason of it,” said Ivan, “ but didn’t such 
a regulation sometimes lead to abuses ? It is said that 
there was never a law in the world that was not abused 
at one time or another.” 


46 


THE SIBERIAN EXILES. 


“ That is quite true,” said Kanchin, ‘‘ and the law of 
which we are talking was no exception to the rule. 
There is no doubt that it has been outrageously 
abused. A serf might have money which his master 
desired, or he might have a pretty wife or daughter on 
whom the master looked with favor ; nothing more 
natural in the world, than that the man should be sent 
to Siberia for three or five years ‘ by the will of his 
master.’ ” 

“ But serfdom exits no longer,” said Ivan. 

‘•You are right,” was the reply, “ but the power for- 
merly possessed by the master is now vested in the 
local authorities, who can send anybody into exile when 
they think proper to do so.* 

“ Furthermore, if any person is obnoxious to the 
government, or his presence anywhere is considered 
‘ prejudicial to social order,’ or it is suspected that he 
corresponds or associates with anybody who is not in 
sympathy with the government, he may be sent to 
Siberia or anywhere else that the Minister of the In- 
terior may designate. There is no need of telling him 
what charges have been made against him or who has 
accused him, and he cannot ask for a hearing or a trial 
or take advantage of the habeas corpus that we read 
about in other countries. His friends are not allowed 
to communicate with him, nor he with them, until such 
time as the government pleases. It may be a day, a 
month, a year, a decade or a century.” 

* In the year 1885, 15,766 persons were sent to Siberia. 5,536 
of these were women and children, voluntarily accompanying 
husbands or fathers. Of the remaining 10,230, 4,392 were exiled 
by sentence of courts, and 5,838 by administrative process. 
3.751 of those thus sent to Siberia without trial were exiled by 
the order of the Communes and not by the general govern- 
ment. 


A RUSSIAN PRISON. 


47 


Naturally this conversation occurred to Ivan on the 
night of his father’s arrest, and again while he lay 
awake after his conversation with Mr. Hartmann. He 
racked his brain to discover what could possibly have 
been the cause of the sudden visit of the police and his 
father’s transfer from the delights of his home to the 
rigors of the prison at Tambov. He could think of 
absolutely nothing that his father had done to bring 
suspicion in his direction, and finally gave up the effort 
m despair. 

Next, he turned to measures for his relief and 
release. 

“ Here is the terrible character of these administra- 
tive arrests,” he said to himself. “ In the first place, we 
do not know of what he is accused, and even if we did, 
we could not call any of his friends to testify to his 
loyalty without bringing them under suspicion. It is 
dangerous to be any man’s friend in Russia. What a 
horrible state of affairs.” 



CHAPTER V. 

THE RUSSIAN POLICE SYSTEM. 

The man who had called upon Hartmann and Ivan 
was an attache of the Imperial Police at Tambov and had 
a brother of much higher position than himself. 

While they were at breakfast the next morning, the 
youth asked Mr. Hartmann to tell him something about 
the police system ot the empire of the Czar. 

“ Well,” said the gentleman, “ you must know that 
Russia is essentially a paternal country, the goverment 
being the sole authority in everything, and the Czar 
standing as the father of all his subjects. The citizen, 
or subject, has no voice in selecting his rulers and is 
considered incapable of managing anything but his own 
personal affairs ; even his ability to do that is not 
admitted, and he must refer to the police a great many 
things that he would decide for himself in other coun- 
tries, especially in England or the United States. 

“ You know very well, as a Russian subject, living in 
Russia, that you cannot travel without a passport ; you 
cannot change your residence from one house to another 
without notifying the police, and, if you wish to open a 
cigar shop, a grocery, or a place for the sale of boots 
and shoes, the permission of the police must first be 
obtained. If a man has a drug store, he is forbidden to 
[48J 


THE KUSSIAN POLICE SYSTEM. 


49 


sell medicines of a powerful nature, such as poisons, 
narcotics and anesthetics, on the prescription of any 
doctor not named on a list given you by the police. A 
doctor cannot practice without permission of the police, 
and when he practices, he must go to every call in the 
night, unless he has the police permit to refuse to go 
out at that time. Performances at theatres and shows 
of all kinds are under police supervision, but to this no 
valid objection can be made, and the regulation, within 
certain limits, is a good one. The same thing is done 
in other countries, but we Russians go a good many 
steps beyond other nations.” 

“ Suppose,” said Ivan, “ that I want to get up a con- 
cert for the aid of a hospital, asylum or some other 
charity, what must I do in that case ?” 

“ You must get the permission of the police before 
you can do anything, and, in applying for it, you must 
file your entire programme, naming each person who is 
to appear and exactly what he is to sing, play or recite, 
and, if you vary the programme on the night of the af- 
fair, you may find yourself in serious trouble.” 

“ That would be inconvenient,” Ivan remarked, “ but 
as everybody would understand it, the rule wouldn’t be 
serious.” 

“ But the police supervision does not end here,” Mr. 
Hartmann continued, “ you must hand over the pro- 
ceeds of the entertainment to the police, and the money 
must pass through their hands before reaching the char- 
ity for which it was intended. It is liable to great 
shrinkage during this passage and, in fact, it may disap- 
pear altogether. It is very certain that it will not be 
increased by contact with the hands of the police.” 

“ Why do they make you put the money in their 
hands ?” 


50 THE SIBERIAN EXILES. / 

“ The reason for this regulation is, that evil-^sposed 
persons are in the habit of getting up entertaiiiments, 
ostensibly for the benefit of well known charities, when 
in fact they are for supplying funds to revolutionists, 
at home or abroad, or prisoners in the hands of the gov- 
ernment.” 

“ Oh ! I understand,” said Ivan: 

“ One of the regulations of the police refers to the 
censorship of price-lists of goods, notes of invitation to 
parties and personal visiting cards ; also for the censor- 
ship of seals, rubber stamps and business cards of indi- 
viduals or corporations. Another order regulates the 
sale of soap, starch, tooth-brushes and insect powder, 
and another controls the printing on the paper used in 
making cigarettes. The incongruous nature of the 
orders issued by the police, are illustrated by the circum- 
stance that one order concerning religious instruction 
in secular schools, and another about measures to pre- 
vent honse-stealing, are placed side by side.” 

Ivan laughed at this and then asked how the police 
force of the empire was constituted. 

“ All the police are under the control of the Minister 
of the Interior,” was the reply. “ Down to a few years 
ago the detective and secret police were under inde- 
pendent control, and their business related wholly to 
political matters, but it was found that crime and 
politics were so closely allied, that the management 
would be easier if it were all in one department. The 
municipal police force is not unlike that of English or 
American cities ; the rural police includes two classes 
of men, one appointed by the government and the 
other elected by the peasants ; and the detective or secret 
police are as secret as possible. The outside public 


THE RUSSIAN POLICE SYSTEM. 


61 


does not know much about them, and the little it does 
know is often wrong.” • 

While talking further on this subject, Ivan asked Mr. 
Hartmann a question as to the number and extent of 
the secret police. 

“ That’s something I can’t tell you,” he replied. “ If 
I could, it wouldn’t be a secret. But this I know, that 
there are not many members of the force outside of the 
cities, for the very good reason that it is chiefly in the 
cities that their services are needed. Revolutionists are 
not found in the country as much as in the cities, and 
when a man in the country has revolutionary tendencies 
he is very likely to go to the city to carry on his work. 
In the days of the Emperor Nicholas it was a common 
saying that when three persons were together one of 
them was a spy and the other two were quite liable to be 
in the same line. Matters improved somewhat under 
Alexander II. but became worse again after Alexander 
III. ascended the throne.” 

“ I suppose the secret police are better paid than our 
rural policemen, are they not ?” 

“ They must be better paid or better bribed,” replied 
the gentleman. “ No man can live honestly on a police- 
man’s pay in the rural districts, and it is no wonder that 
he extorts money from the peasants on which to exist. 
On a salary of two or three hundred rubles ($ioo to 
$150) a man cannot support a family, keep himself 
provided with uniform, sword and revolver, make an 
occasional present to his superior, and otherwise meet 
the expenses of his position. We are all obliged to 
make presents to the local police ; if we do so quietly, 
it is much better for us than to resist, as then they will 
make us pay for all the expense and trouble of making 
their collections. 


52 


TPIE SIBERIAN EXILES. 


“ It is a suspicious circumstance/’ he continued, 
“ when a local police official, of whatever grade, refuses 
to take bribes. Let me tell you a little story on this 
point.” 

Of eourse Ivan was quite willing to hear it, and his 
friend continued : 

“ Some years ago, several young men of liberal views, 
well-educated and of good families, thought they would 
benefit the peasants by going into the country and find- 
ing situations as bee-sers (district secretaries), where 
they could teach the people something of their rights 
and protect them from the swindles of the small traders 
who were leagued to rob them. Of course they went 
under assumed names, but they were all discovered 
because they refused to drink vodka (whiskey) or take 
bribes. If their habits had been dissolute and the)^ had 
shown a readiness not only to take all bribes that were 
offered, but to force payment from those who did 
offer them, they would not have come under suspicion.” 

“ You mention the small traders who rob the peas- 
ants,” said Ivan, as Mr. Hartmann paused. “ How 
is that done ?” 

“ Generally by combination with the Stanovoi or 
chief police officer of a district or village. You will 
find in nearly every village a kulak, that is, a man with 
some capital, who makes money out of the peasants by 
lending at high rates when they are in distress, buying 
their grain for whatever he chooses to pay, and other- 
wise taking advantage of their necessities. 

“ I know one case where several of the peasants had 
arranged to load their grain on a barge and float it 
down the river to a market town, where it would bring 
a good price. They could thus get nearly double what 
the kaluk had been in the habit of paying them, and 


THE RUSSIAN UOLICE SYSTEM. 


53 


would be able to deal directly with the consumers 
of the grain. 

“ The kaluk heard of the scheme and went to the 
Stanovoi to propose something to their mutual ad- 
vantage. 

“ He told what the peasants were intending to do and 
then said : 

“ ‘ These people cannot go more then thirty versts 
from home without your permission on their passports, 
and the place where they expect to sell their grain is 
at least two hundred versts away. Now, you can make 
various excuses for not giving them their passports, 
which are in your possession ; they will have to sell the 
grain to me and we can divide the profits.’ 

“ The Stanovoi embraced the opportunity, and when 
the peasants came for their passports, he said they had 
been sent to the governor of the province and could not 
be expected back again for several weeks. He was 
very sorr}^ it so happened, but there was no way 
in which he could let the men go more than thirty 
versts away without their passports, as they would 
certainly be arrested and imprisoned if found beyond 
the limits without them. 

“ The men waited a while and finally grew tired and 
sold the grain to the kulak for what he would give.” 

“ What an infamous piece of business !” exclaimed 
Ivan. 

“You may well say so,” replied Hartmann, “but 
from one end of Russia to the other, the peasants are 
oppressed by the police and have no redress. Your 
father and I have paid a great deal of money to the 
police just to remain undisturbed and to keep them 
from interfering with us under one pretext or another. 
Whenever they want money, they devise ways of rais- 


54 


THE SIBERIAN EXILES. 


ing it and keeping within the requirements of the law 
at the same time. 

“ Once, while we were in the midst of the harvest, the 
local Stanovoi gave notice that all the peasants on our 
estates must be called together to hear the law read to 
them. It was the busiest time of the year with us, and 
he intimated that he could not put off the reading with- 
out great inconvenience. We had become so accus- 
tomed to this kind of thing, that we understood at once 
what he meant. We asked him how much the incon- 
venience would be, and he answered, ‘ fifty rubles.’ He 
received the money and the law was not read until 
autumn, when the peasants had very little to do.” 

A traveller, who is well acquainted with Russia and 
its customs (Mr. George Kennan) says, that one of the 
most lucrative things that can fall into the hands of a 
Stanovoi, is the body of a man who is supposed to have 
been murdered. The law requires the Stanovoi to go 
to the plabe where the body is found and then remove 
it to the dead-house in the nearest village to await the 
arrival of the district surgeon. The surgeon is generally 
in another part of the district and cannot be expected 
for a day or two, perhaps longer. Few villages have 
official dead-houses, and, in default of such buildings, 
the Stanovoi can place the corpse in any house he chooses 
to select. 

Under these circumstances, he goes to the richest 
man in the village and proposes to leave the ghastly 
object in his dwelling. The man knows that the official 
has the right to do so and quickly comes to terms by 
paying anywhere from ten to fifty rubles to be left alone. 
The same thing will be done at the next house and 
the next, in fact, the whole village will be “squeezed,” 
and then the body will be deposited in an abandoned 


THE RUSSIAN POLICE SYSTEM. 


55 


shed or, possibly, it may be carried away to exploit 
another village the same way. Instances have been 
known of the exploiting of three villages in succession 
with the same cadaver. 

But we are forgetting Carl Pavloff in our talk con- 
cerning the Russian police and their crooked ways. 

The man who had made the proposal for Carl’s 
“ escape ” for fifty thousand rubles, called at the hotel in 
the morning to renew his offer. 

“ You have thought over what I said, have you not ?” 
he remarked, addressing Mr. Hartmann. 

“ Yes, I’ve thought the matter over somewhat,” was 
the reply, “ but there are difficulties in the way of 
accepting your terms.” 

‘‘ What are they ?” 

‘‘ In the first place, I think the figures altogether too 
high. Carl Pavloff isn’t a poor man, but fifty thousand 
rubles is a great deal of money, and he couldn’t raise 
that amount without considerable negotiation. He 
would have to sell or mortgage his estate, and that, you 
know, would attract attention, and might bring you and 
your friends into trouble. People would connect his 
escape with the sale of the land, and that wouldn’t be 
agreeable to anybody concerned.” 

‘‘ That need not give any trouble,” replied the official. 
“ But it will not be necessary to sell or mortgage the 
property. I will make it forty thousand rubles or even 
thirty thousand, and instead of insisting upon all the 
money being actually in hand, half of it may be paid 
over and the other half can be secured for future pay- 
ments. I can bring you the necessary legal papers 
whenever you name the time.” 

There was a pause and then the man spoke again. 

“ I think I understand another of your objections to 


56 


THE SIBERIAN EXILES. 


closing the negotiation. You are uncertain as to my 
standing in the matter and think it po.ssible I may be 
an imposter. That suspicion is the most natural and, 
under the circumstances, a proper one. I’ll satisfy you 
on that point.” 

Then he drew from his pocket his commission in the 
service of His Imperial Majesty, which showed him to 
be exactly what he said he was. Evidently he had 
told the truth, and no doubt he would have been ready 
to take issue with any one who hinted that he was 
otherwise than irreproachable in character, in spite of 
his peculiar views touching the question of bribery and 
connivance at the escape of a prisoner. 

After the commission had been inspected, he exhib- 
ited two or three letters from his brother, which were 
equivalent to a full power of authority for the transac- 
tion of the business. It was plainly to be seen that 
these worthy gentlemen were determined to make the 
most of their opportunity in the uniform of The Great 
White Czar. They were under the Imperial banner for 
purposes of revenue, rather than for patriotism. 

One important point was thus settled. The discus- 
sion of other points was cut short by the arrival o_^ Mr. 
Kosavitch, the lawyer, who had been engaged to look 
after Pavloff’s case. He came in unannounced and 
before the officer had time to withdraw. The meeting 

was a confusing one, especially to Captain , but 

he concealed his annoyance with a cordial greeting and 
some commonplace comments upon the weather and 
the general prosperity of the province. Glancing at his 
watch, he pretended to remember an engagement and 
speedily withdrew. 

“You need not tell me what he was after,’’ said the 


THE RUSSIAN POLICE SYSTEM. 


57 


lawyer, as the door closed on the retiring form of the 
official gentleman. 

“ He proposed an escape on payment of a handsome 
amount of money ?” 

Mr. Hartmann made no response, as he felt bound by 
his promise of secrecy, though he was entirely satisfied 
that the lawyer should know what had happened. He 
believed in the idea that a lawyer ought to be informed 
of everything bearing on a case ; and certainly this 
matter had a very important bearing. 

“ He can do exactly what he says he can,” continued 
the other. “ Stop a moment, I don’t know what he has 
said and, therefore, must particularize.” 

He then recounted, almost word for word, what the 
visitor had proposed. It was evident that the lawyer 
had dealt with him before and knew his man. 

But before deciding upon their line of action, the gen- 
tlemen went again to the prison to discuss the matter 
with Pushkin. A new permission was necessary, and 
this was obtained without difficulty and without any 
necessity for another cigarette. But the cigarette case 
had been prepared for the occasion, and if the official 
had demurred, it would have been presented as before. 

At the suggestion of the lawyer, Ivan was not present 
at the interview. He passed the time strolling about the 
streets of Tambov, studying the groups in the market- 
place, and looking in the windows of the shops of the 
Gostinna Dvor or centre of trade. Every Russian town 
or city has an establishment of this sort, and the larger 
the town or city the more extensive is the collection of 
shops. The finest in Russia are, unquestionably, those 
of Moscow and St. Petersburg. That of Moscow is the 
most interesting, as it contains many features of 


58 


TIIFv SIBERIAN EXILES. 


Oriental life that are not found in the younger capital 
on the banks of the Neva. 

The result of the interview in the prison was, that 
the lawyer should arrange for a hearing as soon as it 
could be brought about and, in the meantime, Mr. 
Hartmann and Ivan were to return home and wait for a 
message from their legal adviser. They were also to 
raise thirty thousand rubles and have the money ready 
whenever it was needed. The lawyer thought this 
amount of money could be “ put where it would do the 
most good.” 

He had planned to circumvent the official who pro- 
posed the escape and consequent exile of Pushkin, by 
arranging that he should have a hearing and be 
liberated under bonds to come before the authorities 
whenever called. This would enable him to live at 
home instead of spending his days abroad or dwelling 
under a fictitious name in some other part of Russia. 
A part of the money would be paid to the officious gen- 
tleman to secure his silence, and the rest would go into 
the hands of those who controlled the preliminary 
hearing. 

All was progressing favorably, so far as indications 
could show, and the family of the prisoner were resting 
in the belief that he would soon be a free man and once 
more with them. Several days passed, each day bring- 
ing a hopeful message from the lawyer, who said the 
arrangements had been made for a hearing on the fol- 
lowing Monday, wffien the presence of Mr. Hartmann 
and Ivan would be desirable. 

Preparations were made for an early start on Mon- 
day morning, so as to bring them in Tambov before the 
hour fixed for the hearing. The money had been 
raised and was in notes of a thousand rubles each, the 


THE RUSSIAN POLICE SYSTEM. 


59 


thirty notes being all crisp and new and evidently fresh 
from the bank. In most countries of the world, coin is 
preferred to notes in transactions of this kind, for the 
reason that it cannot be traced. But in Russia they 
are not so particular and, furthermore, there is no gold 
coin in circulation, the currency of the country being at 
a great discount, which has caused the complete dis- 
appearance of all coins except those of small denomina- 
tions. 

“ I’ll bring father home with me to-night,” said Ivan 
to Nadia as he kissed her good-bye. “ And, mother, 
ril tell him while we’re coming from Tambov, how 
much we’ve all missed him and how we’ve prayed every 
day for his release.” 

In a few moments the tarantass was rumbling over 
the road, and in due time it halted in front of the 
home of the lawyer, who was just at that moment 
coming out of his door. A glance at his face showed 
that something had gone wrong, and Mr. Hartmann 
immediately asked what was the matter. 

“ Come into the house and I’ll tell you,” was his 
abrupt reply. He was unwilling to talk in the presence 
of the driver of the tarantass and within hearing of 
anyone who might be passing along the street. 

They followed him into the house and to the room 
which served him as office and reception parlor. Mr. 
Hartmann repeated his question ; the other hesitated 
' a moment and then said he had painful news to 
communicate. 

“Last evening,” said he, “an order was received 
from the Minister of the Interior for the immediate 
deportation to Siberia of Carl Pavloff, surnamed Push- 
kin. At midnight he was taken from the prison and 
sent away. I knew nothing of the matter until early 


60 


THE SIBERIAN EXILES. 


this morning, and thus far I have not been able to find 
by what road he has gone. I was just on my way to 
the Chancellerie in the hope of learning something. I 
have already been there twice this morning, but no 
one who could tell me anything had then arrived.” 

“ Sent to Siberia !” exclaimed Ivan, his face white 
with terror. “ How can I go back to mother and Nadia 
with this dreadful news 



CHAPTER VI. 

ON THE ROAD TO EXILE. 

Inquiry at the prison and at the Chancellerie availed 
but little. All that could be learned was what they 
already knew, that Pushkin had been taken from the 
prison at midnight by order of the Minister of the In- 
terior and sent away. The prison-keeper did not even 
know if he had been sent to Siberia ; all he could say 
was that a sergeant of police had brought an order for 
the prisoner’s removal and had taken him away in a 
telyega (a common wagon) under escort of a soldier. 
The order was entirely regular in form and in fifteen 
minutes after deli\rering it the sergeant departed with 
his prisoner. 

There are several ways out of Tambov, and nobody 
knew by which one of the roads the prisoner had gone. 
The railway from Saratov on the banks of the Volga to 
Koslov and Moscow passes through Tambov, and Push- 
kin might have been taken in either direction, east or 
west. Going to the west, he would in all probability 
be sent to Moscow, while if he was taken eastward, he 
would reach the terminus of the railway at Saratov, 
whence he might be sent up the Volga to Kazan on the 

[6i] 


62 


THE SIBERIAN EXILES. 


great road from St. Petersburg and Moscow to Siberia. 
Or he might be sent from Saratov to the other side of 
the Volga and thence by one of several wagon roads to 
the land of exile. A hundred miles or so to the North 
of the Koslov-Saratov railway is another line almost 
parallel to it ; a wagon-road northeastward from Tam- 
bov intersects the railway at Penza, where the train 
could be taken to Syzran, another landing on the Volga 
higher up than Saratov. The convicts in Siberia 
have a saying to the effect that “ He who runs away 
has but one road, he who pursues him has twenty.” 
The same proverb rises painfully to the thoughts of 
the friends of one who has been spirited away in the 
night when they seek to discover in what direction he 
has been taken. 

Let us follow the fortunes of Pushkin on his way into 
exile. As he stepped into the telyega he was hand- 
cuffed to the soldier to make sure that he did not 
escape. The sergeant mounted the box at the side of 
the driver of the vehicle and then the order was given 
to go on. As they neared a corner of the street, two or 
three blocks from the prison gate, the sergeant gave 
the command : 

“ Leva (turn to the left) !” 

A little further on the order “ Na Prave (turn to 
the right) !” was given, and the driver without checking 
the speed of his horses obeyed the instruction. In a 
few minutes they were out of the city and in the open 
country, as was evident by the change in the condition 
of the roads. The telyega is at best an uncomfortable 
vehicle, far worse than the tarantass ; the latter is built 
with some attention to the comfort of its occupants, 
while the former is made solely for purposes of trans- 
portation. Compared with the tarantass, the telyega is 


ON THE ROAD TO EXILE. 


fja 

like the common farm-wagon of America compared 
with a family carriage. On a smooth road, and filled 
with straw and blankets for a passenger to lie upon, it 
is uncomfortable enough ; on a rough road, with two 
men chained together to occupy it and a driver urging 
his horses at their best speed, the telyega is an instru- 
ment of torture of no mean order. Especially so, when 
one of the occupants has been torn from home and 
friends and is on his way into exile. 

But the torture was not to continue long, for the 
telyega followed a road nearly parallel with the railway 
and stopped at the first station to the eastward of Tam- 
bov. The police had reasons of their own for not tak- 
ing their prisoner to the station in the city and making 
their departure from that point, but what those reasons 
were they did not choose to say. The journey had 
been so timed that the party had only a short while, 
less than half an hour, to wait at the station, ere an 
eastbound train arrived and took them on board. The 
telyega remained at the station until after the depar- 
ture of the train and then was driven slowly back to the 
city. Perhaps we shall again hear of this very telyega 
and another journey that it made. 

The train rolled leisurely along, this is a habit of 
most railway trains in Russia, and arrived at Saratov 
only an hour behind its schedule time. During its 
journey Pushkin had occupied a place in a convict car 
along with several other men in the same category as 
himself, prisoners on their way to Siberia ; their guards 
sat or stood with their weapons ready to prevent any 
attempt at escape. Escape would have been next to 
impossible under the circumstances. Pushkin had been 
freed from the handcuffs which bound him to the 
soldier, but he was chained to a fellow prisoner, all the 


THE SIBERIAN EXILES. 


gang of prisoners being chained together in couples. 
Even had the doors been wide open and the guards 
offering no resistance, it would have been very difficult 
for two men thus hampered to get away. The windows 
of the car were strongly grated like those of a prison 
van. 

Pu.shkin had visited Saratov on previous occasions 
and always admired it, as it is a very picturesque city. 
It has a hundred thousand inhabitants and more ; it 
possesses a considerable trade with the country on both 
sides of the Volga and far into the interior. It can 
boast a goodly proportion of inhabitants of German 
origin ; its streets are wide, and its houses are generally 
well built. There is a great deal of wealth at Saratov, 
and its churches are second only to those of Moscow 
and St. Petersburg. The prisoner had neither the 
opportunity nor the mood for looking at Saratov or 
anything it contained. A covered wagon, like an 
omnibus, or rather resembling the “ Black Maria ” as 
it is known to the denizens of Boston and New York, was 
at the station waiting for its prey. The exiles were 
huddled into it and then driven rapidly to the prison, 
which swung wide its gates when they approached and 
closed with a clang as they passed within. Here they 
were to wait until a convoy was ready for Siberia. It 
might be a day or two, or it might be longer ; who 
could tell J 

In the Russian exile system it is the custom to accu-' . 
mulate those who are to form a convoy at certain cen- 
tral points. When a sufficient number has been gath- 
ered the convoy is started, and it is expected to keep up 
a certain rate of march day by day until its destination 
is reached. In the large towns or cities there are depots 
or forwarding prisons, and it is here that the convoys 


See Page 74. 



1 

i 







Vv/, >; , . • lyj - ' [ /. • Jn - ■ r ^ r.’ % 

. . ►'■ fcOi<V i'. . :. si s ( •' .•** 




» 




r 


•1' 


.V 



. 4 

f 4 

'• M S'- 

* » 

:J > A 

*• - - 

*■1 ^ - • • • 

• * * •« ♦ 

-.’-1 -t*. ■ ,* 

V' ‘ 

V 

^ : V 



•> 

'ywV- '"y-^ 

T 

- V ' 

■ i*'- 

p-*' 

^ » t 

L • ■ ' ‘ 

.^. n V . .. . 
>\ «. 

, >v . ■ 

• 

w 

_ 4 r 



■ i"' 

* /» 


v>, ‘. ‘ '■ 'Vi >;••■■ , 

^ -V- ■■^•^.■•■- ' '-C V. 


» 


*• . . 


. ^ 



'jf 


K 

V' ; 


•< • 







*t. 


-fc' — !^ 3 ? i ti ‘ * 

“*• . -== , » w • • ,. • *1 

**• V * 


\ 




-V '■'•?>» 




^ 


X- ‘ 


I S 






- 


If- 

^aX .•♦ 

.■ 


S’ 






Sfc* : :r4' ■ 

ajr V - i iv' 







V : 


- '-t , ^ " 

■; u ' 


.rj 

I 4 « 
• < 


^ 'r' *. 




-■ r 

. A 


) 


• • f •» t 

J.’V‘ 

>' •J 








> ^ 
■ 4 


r 

• • 

•/ 


.« 


ifc^ '^-WfW. ,■ . v'vi/r': ■ 'V 


.kjx. 








--W "*» 


V'VM V i 



*i^ 


. f 


I * 
; 1 


4 . 

' -» 


*• .•? 


fern.. . ’ 




:^m: 

: ■ 

' • ;'•• , J'.-. 

■ '’l 


' ‘'W / . 


-W 


;> 


■> 


' * 







'**t i;.‘ 


*■] • '^.' 




^ ■ !>>■ ;- 


s - • 

• • •• 


• •jr '.> 




-» 

•. . * 


V • ^ 

• - f 


* \ 
» *s 


• ■ 

•.'A*-'-’' 


‘iij 




?+:• 


n 2 . 

♦ * *■ ‘ • * 






• k . 


' jt • * 

- .f - 

• a v‘ *,*• 

4. A' 


. - • I , — ’ -•**• 

•A; » 


A V'Clf 


Y 


S'-' 

■■(;i -'■ -...^f - 
- ■ «^ • 


' '“1 7 ' ■ 


*'. *? 


^1 ; 




■■ ■ 


■i) 


I ^ ', r ^ 


1 > d 

* A S » 




.>^. - .V 


>18 


ft*-'- • 

, ('tr > -y.* 

^ V* I. ■ - M- 
'yS- r •%• 



. n - .. 

. ■^■4 . 

- I * 


4 . 


Vr' 


NBi 


m 


*>«* 


4-4 

1 







- .*• 

• ^ ’4 , 

^ ./'i ^ 

• 4 

■ •.'Jl'irfVyi^'; ri.i 

i . •. .* >vr-* . A . j-** . 



•s* '. V 

y S'"' 


.J- 

w 



♦ 

> 

w 

1 

'■ '■ ■'■ **' ■ 

*• • 

r- » 

^ b 

1 


■ 

./ ‘ 


• 1 

« * 

• ft 

Vh V > 



’~ ' ^-. ' ■ I < » 


/* 


♦ •• • . ►%.•< • 4 . V 'T • „ • 

• * * Y*-: -?^. - , V." . 






VV •• “ • .*■ 

r<:-.- V 


r'^ 


v.V- 


- * ••^ 

, 4 I -*'i S-Vi- 


»'a •• 




-% 






ON THE ROAD TO EXILE. 


65 


are made up. A great deal depends upon the activity 
of the police, the amount of crime, or the imperative 
orders of the Minister of the Interior and his satellites ; 
if there is a pressure of business, the convoys are too nu- 
merous, and the forwarding prisons become crowded ; 
while, on the other hand, if there is a lull in crime, or in 
revolutionary movements, the convoys are small and the 
prisons have space to spare. Unhappily, the latter con- 
tingency is rarely known. 

There is a story of an Oriental king who one day told 
his grand vizier that he wanted to behead a hundred 
men the next morning, and ordered the vizier to take 
his pen and make out the list. 

The king named man after man among those who 
were at court, but after naming all he could think of he 
lacked one of the complete hundred. He paused to re- 
flect ; his pause lasted several minutes, and then he said 
to the waiting vizier : 

“ I can’t think of any one else, put down your own 
name.” 

The vizier did as he was directed and was duly be- 
headed with the others on the following morning. 

Russians say that the Minister of the Interior orders 
arrest and exile by administrative process very much as 
this Eastern king ordered men for execution, solely for 
his amusement and to keep his jailers in practice ; they 
intimate that he sometimes does not hesitate to consign 
his own followers to the hard fate which he so readily 
decrees to others. 

Down to his arrival at Saratov, Pushkin had worn the 
clothing in which he was arrested. But he was now on 
the road to Siberia, was associated with convicts, was, 
in fact, a convict under sentence, although he had been 
charged with no crime so far as his friends and himself 


66 


THE SIBERIAN EXILES. 


could ascertain, had never been tried and consequently 
never been convicted. The will of the Minister of the 
Interior, whom he had never seen, was the law which 
condemned him to exile in Siberia. 

He was required to give up his ordinary clothing and 
adopt a convict’s suit, which consisted of a coarse shirt 
and trousers of gray material, a gray overcoat and a 
rimless cap with a broad top. Cap and coat are of the 
same color, and thus a runaway prisoner can readily be 
distinguished and his apprehension facilitated. 

For his feet he had a pair of boots and a pair of coarse 
stockings and he was allowed to buy a change of cloth- 
ing with the little money that he admitted was in his 
possession ; he had managed to secrete the bank-note 
which his wife conveyed to him, and this he carefully 
kept for the time when it would be sorely needed. The 
government generously gave him a linen bag in which 
his spare clothing was placed, but the bag and clothing 
were regularly searched to make sure that they contained 
nothing contraband. 

In one respect he was better treated than he had been 
at the prison in Tambov, as he was not held in solitary 
confinement. In what may be called the preparatory 
stage of his exile life, a prisoner is secluded from others, 
and this seclusion may last for years, but when he starts 
on the road to Siberia he has the advantage of compan- 
ionship. True, this companionship may often be repul- 
sive to a sensitive man, as all sorts of people are herded 
together, — the high-born political offender with the com- 
mon burglar or other criminal. Formerly the govern- 
ment made a distinction between political prisoners 
(who are generally spoken of as “ politicals ”) and those 
condemned for ordinary crimes. They went in separate 
convoys, and were usually kept apart from each other 


ON THE ROAD TO EXILE. 


67 


but in more recent times this distinction has altogether 
been set aside. 

Politicals and criminals are now sent in the same con- 
voys, live together in the same prisons, work at the 
same benches or in the same gangs, and are not infre- 
quently chained together. They are subject to exactly 
the same treatment in every way, and this circumstance 
implies a great deal, as we shall find in one of the sad 
experiences of Carl Pavloff. For the present we will 
deal with the practice of isolating prisoners and never 
allowing them to see each other. 

In the great prison of Petropavlovsk at St. Petersburg, 
which we have already mentioned, the prisoners are 
confined in separate apartments in the casemates. 
When they enter the place they are stripped and 
examined, and after the examination they are supplied 
with prison suits of coarse shirts and trousers and long 
wrappers like dressing-gowns. Their guards are for- 
bidden to talk to them, other than to give orders in the 
fewest possible words, and as soon as the change of 
clothing is effected and the examination is complete, 
they are locked in their cells and left to themselves. 

One of Pushkin’s companions in misfortune (Dubayeff 
was his name) had been an inmate of the Petropavlovsk 
prison and thus described his experiences : 

“ It was about midnight when I was arrested at my 
lodgings in St. Petersburg and within half an hour I 
was inside the gloomy fortress. The closed carriage 
was driven into a court-yard, and I was ordered to step 
to the ground and follow the officer who arrested me. 
We were preceded by a soldier carrying a lantern, and 
I could see nothing except what was immediately 
around me. Before the carriage stopped, we had been 


68 


THE SIBERIAN EXILES. 


driven around and around through a great many cor- 
ridors and passages, so that it was utterly impossible for 
me to know in what part of the great fortress I was 
locked up. 

“ The casemates of the fortress were originally 
intended for cannon, but for a century and more they 
have been occupied by prisoners and not by artillery. 
It is fortunate for those of us who are locked up there 
that the architect of the fortress intended the casemates 
for the legitimate, uses of those places, as they are 
much larger than the ordinary cells of a prison. The 
one I was in was about 25 feet x 15 feet and the ceiling 
was fully 12 feet high ; there was a window in one end 
and a door in the other, but the window was so high up 
that I could not reach it. It was heavily grated on the 
outside, and the iron sash could be moved at the bottom 
so as to admit or keep out the air.” 

“ Were there any evidences that anybody else had 
been there before you ?” Pushkin asked. 

“ Evidences ! plenty of them. A small lamp was 
burning in the cell, and as soon as I was left alone I 
took it up to examine the place. On the floor I dis- 
covered a path worn in the solid concrete, worn by the 
steps of others who had paced back and forth thousands 
and thousands of times from one corner of the cell to 
the corner diagonally opposite. For years and years 
the place had been occupied ; men and women, perhaps, 
had come and gone, each one adding to the pathway 
until it was as easily perceptible as the track of a hun- 
dred wagons across a field. And remember, this path 
is made with felt slippers, as they take away 3^our boots 
when you enter the prison and give you a pair of soft 
slippers instead. 


ON THE ROAD TO EXILE. 


69 


“ My brain went in a whirl at this discoveiy. I 
thought perhaps I might be in the very cell that was 
occupied by Lieutenant-Colonel Battenkoff and perhaps 
my fate might be the same as his.” 

“ Who was he ?” Pushkin inquired. “ I never heard 
of him.” 

He was one of the so-called Decembrists, the men 
who, in December, 1825, at the time of the death of 
Alexander I. and the accession of Nicholas, sought to 
overthrow the existing government and establish one 
founded upon a constitution. They were unsuccessful 
in their attempt ; five of the leaders were hanged, 
others were imprisoned in St. Petersburg, and others 
(about two hundred) were sent to Siberia for life. 

“ Colonel Battenkoff was kept in solitary confinement 
in the Petropavlovsk prison for twenty-one years and 
was then exiled to Siberia. During the time he was in 
prison he never saw anybody but his guards, never saw 
a newspaper, and had no communication with his 
family or any one else. He was practically as dead to 
the world as a man in his tomb.” 

“ I wonder he did not become insane,” remarked Pu.sh- 
kin as the other paused. 

“ That is the fate of a great many prisoners,” was the 
reply, “ and probably would have been that of Colonel 
Battenkoff if he had not been allowed some occupation. 
He was permitted to have a Hebrew Bible and a dic- 
tionary, and during his imprisonment he translated the 
Bible from the original Hebrew into Russian. That was 
all that saved him.” 

“ Did you ever know about the insanity of prisoners 
in that fortress ?” 

“ Yes, I could name several, yes, many, who became 


70 


THE SIBERIAN EXILES. 


insane and either died in a state of raving madness or 
lapsed into the condition of hopeless idiots. There was 
Midshipman Diboff for one, Lieutenant Zaikin for 
another, young and promising men when they were 
shut up in the fortress and deprived of all occupations. 
They were not allowed anything to read, could have no 
writing materials, and so could do nothing except walk 
up and down their solitary cells or sit on their beds and 
think, think, think. Can you wonder that their minds 
gave way under this treatment and that their reason fled 
never to return ? 

“ Many women have gone insane in that dreadful 
prison. Think what it must be for a woman, reared in 
the highest circles of society, educated, refined, delicate, 
unaccustomed to the rough side of the world, to be sud- 
denly torn from home and friends and buried alive in 
the tomb-like vaults where the Emperor sends so many 
of his subjects. Days, weeks, months and years pass 
without a word from outside that pile of stone, to com- 
fort her in her captivity. She sees no one but her guards, 
hears no friendly voice, can look on nothing but the 
walls dripping with moisture, and cannot even regard 
the blue dome of the sky above. Reason totters and 
falls, but the Czar and his minions are without pity ; it 
is their intention to drive the prisoner to madness in the 
hope that in her raving she may reveal something which 
will lead to the arrest of others and secure their incar- 
ceration where they can no longer be a menace to the 
security of the Imperial throne. 

“ O ! my brother,” Dubayeff continued, “ your lot is 
terrible, but it is happiness supreme compared to that 
of many victims of Imperial hate who are to-day impris- 
oned in the fortress of Petropavlovsk, It is better, far 


ON THE ROAD TO EXILE. 


71 


better, to be on the road to Siberia than locked in the 
casemates of that prison whose very name blanches the 
face of every liberal-minded Russian from one end to 
the other of this vast empire. Shout for joy that you 
have air, sun, sky and companionship, and are not buried 
in that awful tomb, over whose doorway may well be 
written the words of Dante in his description of Inferno : 

“ All hope abandon, ye who enter here.” 



CHAPTER VII. 

A PLOT TO ESCAPE. 

Eight days after his arrival at Saratov, Pushkin 
learned from one of the guards that the convoy would 
be sent off to Siberia on the following morning. An 
hour after receiving this information he was summoned 
to the barber's shop of the prison, where one side of his 
head was shaved bare, the hair being allowed to remain 
on the other side. Then he was sent to the black- 
smith’s shop to be fettered. Ten or twelve others 
received a similar summons and were similarly treated. 

A belt of leather was passed around his waist and 
buckled in front. From this belt hung two chains which 
reached to the ankles, where they were secured to the 
ankle-irons by rivets that could not be loosened except 
by filing their heads on the opposite ends. Leather 
straps were passed around the ankles inside the irons 
so that the flesh should not be chafed ; these leathers 
are supplied to the prisoners as a part of their outfit, 
and we may be sure that the victims of Russian cruelty 
take good care of them in order to reduce their personal 
sufferings as much as possible. The government makes 
a pretense of mercy by ordering that the irons placed 
[72] 


A PLOT TO ESCAPE. 


73 


on a prisoner shall not exceed five pounds in weight, 
but it oftens happens that this regulation is not com- 
plied with. Many a prisoner has worn chains weigh- 
ing six, seven, eight pounds, or more ; when he com- 
plained of his illegal treatment, he was laughed at by 
his jailers and very likely punished for “ insubordina- 
tion.” 

The irons that were placed upon Pushkin were not 
above the regulation weight, but when placed upon him 
they seemed to weigh not five pounds but as many hun- 
dred. It was not altogether the amount of iron as 
indicated by the scales that made this great weight, but 
the sense of humiliation that came with the fastening 
of the rivets and the thought that the irons must be 
worn day and night, night and day, for so many long 
months and for many and many a weary mile. At this 
hour, as you read these lines, thousands of men are wend- 
ing their way along the roads of Siberia, clanking their 
chains at every step, through pools of mud or clouds 
of dust in summer and in winter through the deep 
snows that fall in the severe climate of the North. 
And thousands, many thousands of prisoners, men and 
women, have walked these roads before them in the 
same way, driven by that authority which cannot be 
disputed wherever the Russian flag holds it domina- 
tion, the despotic authority of the Great White Czar. 

Setting aside all question of humiliation and degrada- 
tion caused by being compelled to wear the chains of 
his imperial master, Pushkin found that the burden of 
five pounds of iron was far from light. The movement 
of his feet were greatly hampered ; his steps were slow, 
and he fully realized the utter impossibility of attempt- 
ing to escape as long as he was thus fettered. Should 
he seek to conceal his irons beneath his garments, the 


74 


THE SIBERIAN EXILES. 


clanking of the links would reveal their presence to 
every one who came near him, and it was quite out of 
his power to increase his pace to a run. 

Dubayeff’s turn to be ironed came immediately after 
that of Pushkin, and as soon as the work was completed 
they were taken back to the “ kamera,” or room whence 
they had been brought to receive the attentions of the 
blacksmith. 

Pushkin threw himself on the floor and wept like a 
child. 

“ Cheer up ! cheer up ! my brother,” said Dubayeff, 
gently. “ We are companions in misfortune, and grief 
will do us no good. Do you suppose your tears will 
move the Czar’s minions to release you from these irons 
or give you back to your family ?” 

At the mention of his family, Pushkin’s sorrow was 
greater than before, and his sobs were mingled with 
lamentations and prayers. 

The other did all in his power to comfort the sufferer, 
but to no effect. Pushkin had borne with bravery his 
arrest and imprisonment, together with his condemna- 
tion to Siberia, but this last blow had broken his spirit, 
and he said so to his companion as soon as he could 
bring himself to speak coherently. 

“ That is one purpose of putting you in chains ” said 
Dubayeff in reply. “ Our imperial master wishes to 
break our spirit, and there is no better way than this. 
These chains are the decorations that he gives us to 
make us love him, just as he gives his faithful officers 
the decorations that they wear on their breasts. It’s 
only a change in the way of wearing our insignia, that 
is all.” 

We may well realize that Pushkin was in no mood for 
jesting, but the ironical remark of Dubayeff had more 


A PLOT TO ESCAPE. 


75 


effect in drying the sufferer’s tears than anything that 
had been said before. In a little while he was able to 
talk calmly upon their situation. 

“ I’ve worn the chains before,” said Dubayeff, “ and 
become accustomed to them. When they were first 
placed on me, I felt as you do, and was ready to die 
rather than bear those marks of degradation. But I 
found that other men by the hundred and thousand, no 
worse than I, had worn chains and were wearing them 
yet ; so I reasoned that they were badges of honor 
rather than otherwise, and I would rather stand in fet- 
ters as I stand to-day, than be the honored guest of the 
emperor who can sit calmly down to his banquets while 
so many men and women are dragging out their lives 
in poverty and suffering, solely because of his autocratic 
will.” 

The conversation was interrupted by an old “ brodyag,” 
or vagabond, who had just been ironed. He crept up to 
Pushkin’s side, and, at the pause which followed the last 
words of Dubayeff, the brodyag said in a low whisper : 

Brother, for a ruble. I’ll tell you how to loosen your 
irons so that they won’t hurt you near as much.” 

“ To tell is one thing, but to do is another,” responded 
Dubayeff, who overheard the brodyag’s words. 

“ To tell is a good part of it,” retorted the criminal, 
for such he was, and had seen a great deal of service 
under the state. “ For a ruble I’ll name the man.” 

“ What does he mean ?” queried Pushkin, turning to 
his friend. 

“ He means that there is somebody in prison who can 
supply a file with which you can loosen the rivets of 
your irons. You can make this loosening serve you in 
two ways. If you are in a plot to escape, you can get 
your irons ready, so that when the time comes they can 


76 


THE SIBERIAN EXILES. 


be thrown off and you will have full use of your legs for 
running’ away. If you escape and are retaken, you will 
be flogged and sent to the mines, and in escaping you 
must travel a long way, in constant danger of arrest, as 
you have no passport. Many prisoners use the file to 
loosen the rivets of the chains so that they can partly 
remove them at nights and thus make their sleeping 
easier. They do this on the great road to Siberia, and 
for small bribes the guards will connive at this arrange- 
ment, though they will not allow the irons removed 
altogether, lest they might get into trouble. 

“ Our brodyag friend, whom we will call Nemo, as we 
will never know his real name, proposes to tell us 
which one of the guards of the prison will lend us a file 
for the purpose. Of course, the guard must be well paid 
for his trouble and the risk of discovery that he runs.” 

“ What would you advise me to do ?” 

“ Frankly, I advise nothing at present. We shall be 
watched so closely in the early part of our journey that 
there will be no chance of escaping and a great deal of 
being discovered. Better wait till we are well on our 
road, and then there will not be so much vigilance exer- 
cised by the officers who have us in charge.” 

Nemo admitted the force of Dubayeff’s advice," and 
then moved away. But before doing so he intimated 
that they might find him useful, and he would always 
be ready to render any service in his power, if they were 
willing to pay for it. 

“You’ll see plenty of this kind in Siberia,” said 
Dubayeff, after the fellow was out of ear-shot. “ He’s 
an old offender, and has probably been to the mines 
more than once ; he belongs to the Don’t-remember 
family, which is very numerous in Siberia. 

“ There are brodyags who have been ten or twelve 


A PLOT TO ESCAPE. 


77 


times to the mines,’' he continued. “ They manage to 
escape and travel back to European Russia or to the 
valley of the Obi by paths known only to them and 
their kindred ; they are compelled to keep to these 
paths, as they would surely be captured if they ventured 
on the regular roads where a careful watch is main- 
tained. When their paths are discovered, they make 
new ones, and they have a way of conveying information 
about these routes that is known only to the initiated. 
I’ll tell you more about the secret roads when I have 
more time ; at present we must think of leaving here 
for our great march to exile. God grant that we may 
meet no misfortune greater than we have now !” 

At six o’clock the next morning all the prisoners 
were turned out of the kameras, and ordered to be ready 
to move. A breakfast of the regular prison fare, black 
bread and barley soup, was furnished to them, and they 
ate it hastily. Each man was provided with a wooden 
spoon, which he was allowed to retain ; metal spoons 
were not allowed, lest they might be shaped into wea- 
pons or into implements that might facilitate escape. 
They were sixty in all, and when the breakfast was over, 
they were drawm up in line and the roll was called. 
Every man answered to his name, the blacksmith and 
a soldier examined the irons to see that the rivets had 
not been tampered with, and then the jailer turned to 
an officer and muttered the single word ^^gotovey 
(ready) !” Each prisoner shouldered the linen bag that 
contained his scanty belongings, the gates were opened, 
and escorted by soldiers in front, in rear and at both 
sides, the column filed into the outer v/orld and moved 
in the direction of the landing-place of the river steam- 
boats. 

At the head of the column of prisoners were four old 


■78 


THE SIBERIAN EXILES. 


men, who had oeen chosen as recipients for that day of 
whatever gifts might be made to the ^‘unfortunates,” 
as the exiles are called by the Russian populace. This 
is an old custom that has prevailed throughout the 
empire, ever since the exile system was established. 
When a convoy is in motion along the road, or when a 
party of prisoners is at work, certain ones among them 
are appointed to receive gifts on behalf of all. At the 
end of the day, there is a fair division, if the articles are 
such that they can be divided ; if no division is possible, 
the donations are utilized for the benefit of all. 

Loaves of bread and other edibles were given by the 
people, and a stranger's attention would have been 
drawn to the circumstance that by far the greater part 
of the gifts were from poor peasants, and not from those 
who had been blessed by birth or fortune or both. The 
poor of Russia are charitable, but the rich are not so. 
Of course, there are exceptions on both sides of the rule, 
as with other rules the world over. 

At the landing-place lay a government steamboat, 
the steam escaping from her pipes and showing that 
she was ready to start. The sixty prisoners, the major- 
ity of them criminals of various grades, were marched 
on board the boat and into a “ cage ” that occupied a 
considerable part of the lower deck. This cage meas- 
ured about thirty feet by sixty, and the sides and the 
ends were formed by iron gratings, in which the aper- 
tures were four or five inches square. The brodyags 
spoke of it as the “ chicken- coop,” and it certainly bore 
a strong resemblance to a chicken-coop on an enormous 
scale. It is just such a cage as we might find in Now 
Zealand to-day, if that enormous bird of former times, 
the moa, were still in existence, or such as the ostrich 


A PLOT TO ESCAPE. 


79 


farmer of South Africa or Arizona, at the present time, 
would use for enclosing his biped stock. 

When all were on board, the order was given to start. 
The lines were cast off, the boat swung into the stream, 
the engines were put in motion, and steadily the 
Nadeshda (Hope) stemmed the current of the Volga. 
Then, and not till then, the prisoners learned from one 
of the guards that they were to be taken up the Volga 
to Kasan, whence they would ascend the river Kama to 
Perm. At the latter city they would be on the great 
road to Siberia, the route which has been watered by 
the tears of the many thousand of “ unfortunates ” who 
have been condemned to traverse it. 

On and on went the steamer. The occupants of the 
chicken-coop were allowed to do pretty much as they 
liked, except that they could not leave their quarters ; 
they had light and air and could look upon the land- 
scape that was presented to their view during the 
progress of their floating' prison, and at night they 
descended to the sleeping cabins below deck, where the 
guards assigned them to places among a series of 
benches that served as beds. Scanty rations of bread 
and soup were supplied to them, and the gifts of the 
compassionate in their march through the streets of 
Saratov, added materially to the comfort of their even- 
ing meal. 

The boat had been only a few hours on her way, 
before some of the prisoners formed a plan to escape. 
The plot was hatched among the criminal convicts, who 
agreed not to include the politicals until the last 
moment, for fear they might be betrayed. But through 
the kindly act of the brodyag. Nemo, with whom we 
have already made acquaintance, the scheme was made 
known to Dubayeff, under promise of secrecy. Consid- 


80 


THE SIBERIAN EXILES. 


ering it had a possible chance of success, Dubayeff 
sought an opportunity to talk it over with Pushkin, and 
get his opinion on the subject. 

Pushkin listened with an air of vacancy to what his 
friend whispered ; in fact, he paid very little attention, 
and heard not more than half of what was said. His 
thoughts were with his family, and as he pictured the 
home made desolate by his absence, his eyes filled with 
tears that he could not retain. 

Had he known the occurrences of the last few days, 
and the new troubles that surrounded his wife and 
children, he would have been in the depths of despair, 
and ready for any enterprise that gave him the least 
hope of rejoining them, however desperate and danger- 
ous it might be. 



CHAPTER VIII. 

THE DRAG-NET OF THE POLICE. 

After two dayvS spent at Tambov in fruitless inquiries, 
Mr. Hartmann, and Ivan decided to go home and break 
as gently as possible the sad news that they had for the 
wife and daughter of the prisoner. Before doing so, 
they deposited in the government bank the thirty thous- 
and rubles they had brought with them in the expec- 
tation of making use of it. 

As they approached Pushkin's house, the driver sud- 
denly pulled up his horses and called to Mr. Hartmann. 

“ What is it !” asked the latter, as he leaned forward. 

“ There are ten or twelve mounted soldiers and two 
carriages standing at the corner of the house.” 

Both gentlemen looked out and saw what the driver 
indicated. 

“ There are some soldiers at the door,” continued 
the driver, “ and they Ttand there as though they 
wouldn’t let anybody in or out.” 

Well, drive on,” said Mr. Hartmann. 

The driver’s inclination had been to turn around and 
get away as speedily as possible, but he was too well 
trained to demur when an order was given by his 
master, 


[8i] 


82 


THE SIBERIAN EXILES. 


As the carriage stopped in front of the house, the 
gentleman alighted and stepped forward to enter the 
doorway. 

“ Halt !” said one of the soldiers as he held his rifle 
across the door. The gentlemen paused. 

Then the soldier called to an officer who was inside. 
The latter came out in a few moments, and proved to 
be the one who had made the arrest of Carl Pavloff, as 
described in the opening chapter. He at once recog- 
nized Ivan, and evidently knew who Mr. Hartmann was, 
as he called both of them by name. 

I arrest you in the name of the Czar,” said he, with- 
out a word‘of explanation, as soon as they had answered 
to their names. 

“ Which one do you arrest Mr. Hartmann asked. 

“ Both of you,” was the reply. “ You must be ready 
to go to Tambov in two hours.” 

“ Can I go, under escort of course, to my own house ?” 
queried Mr. Hartmann. 

“ Yes,” was the laconic reply. “ You must be back 
here in the time I’ve named, and the guard will make 
sure that you are here.” 

The officer immediately detailed one of the gen- 
darmes and two of the mounted soldiers to accompany 
Mr. Hartmann, who at once returned to his tarantass, 
after shaking Ivan’s hand affectionately. Not a word 
was spoken by either, as they could say nothing with- 
out being overhead by the officer. Mr. Hartman went 
away for the purpose of bidding good-bye to his family, 
and arranging as best he could the management of his 
affairs during his absence, and also of being spared the 
painful scene inside the house of his exiled friend. 

“ You can go into the house, if you like,” said the 
officer, turning to Ivan, as soon as the tarantass drove 


THE DRAG-NET OF THE POLICE. 


83 


away with Mr. Hartmann. The youth need no second 
bidding, and entered immediately. 

His mother was lying on a lounge and just recover- 
ing from a swoon, Nadia was standing over and trying 
to comfort her. Ivan embraced his mother and sister, 
and as they did so, the latter said : 

“ We’ve been arrested and told that we must start 
for Tambov in two hours. What shall we do 

“ Be a brave girl, just as brave a girl as the world 
ever saw," replied Ivan ; “ there’s nothing else you can 
do." 

Nadia promised through her tears that she would 
remember his words, and then she busied herself with 
her mother and showed that she was wonderfully self- 
possessed for a girl of her age. 

Ivan talked a few minutes with his mother, when she 
had recovered from her swoon, and then said he would 
arrange matters the best way he could for the care of 
the place during their absence. He did not say in so 
many words that he was also under arrest, and was to 
be taken to Tambov, but the mother fully realized that 
such was the case. 

“ Don’t trouble yourself," he said cheerily, “ about 
the house and the estate. I will give all the directions 
to our people, while you and Nadia make your prepara- 
tions. You heard what I said to Nadia, and she’ll help 
you to get together the things you want." 

Then he went away, leaving Madame Pushkin and 
Nadia alone. He confided the care of the younger 
children to their governess and the nurse Francesca ; 
the house was left in charge of the old housekeeper, who 
had been with the family since his childhood and long 
before, and the affairs of the estate were left in the 
hands of Joseph, and more particularly in those of the 


THE SIBERIAN EXILES. 


nadziratel^ or overseer, who had a thorough knowledge 
of everything connected with the place. He was born 
on the estate, was a serf in the days of serfdom, and 
had risen to his present position through his intelligence 
and ability. 

Within the time specified in the arrest, the prepara- 
tions for departure had been made. Nadia and her 
mother had each gathered a few extra articles of cloth- 
ing and some personal comforts, which they wished to 
carry, the officer warning them that they must take 
nothing that would be contrary to the rules. Exactly 
what the rules forbade he did not specify, as he knew 
that their hand-bags would be carefully searched by 
the jailers on their arrival at Tambov. 

Ivan had also filled a small travelling-bag, and when 
he came out of the house, at the expiration of the two 
hours, he found Mr. Hartmann waiting outside. 

The two carriages were called up. The women were 
ordered into one of them, and the men into the other, 
and in a few minutes the vehicles were on the road to 
Tambov. 

“ They are very lenient,” whispered Mr. Hartmann 
to the youth. “ Usually, in a case like this, they separate 
mother and daughter, and put each of them into a 
carriage by herself. Then, too, they almost always 
make arrests at night, just as they arrested your father, 
and they capture one and take her away before inform- 
ing the other. The government must be growing 
humane, or perhaps it is because they couldn’t spare 
the necessary number of carriages and soldiers.” 

“ Can you tell why we have been arrested Ivan 
asked. 

“ That is something known only to the Czar and those 
who serve him,” replied the other. “ I suppose we 


THE DRAG-NET OF THE POLICE. 


85 


shall know some time, but for the present I am as 
ignorant as you.” 

“ Perhaps it is because we are the family of Carl Pav- 
loff,” said Ivan, “and you are his friend.” 

“That is very likely the case,” said Mr. Hartmann. 
“ Thousands of arrests have been made in Ri^ia for 
exactly the same reason. A man is under suspicion, 
orders for his arrest are issued, and he is seized and 
taken to prison, and then one after another the mem- 
bers of his family are apprehended, and also anybody 
who is his friend, or has even a casual acquaintance with 
him. Did you ever see the instructions to the police 
concerning persons under surveillance ?” 

Ivan answered in the negative. Then Mr. Hartmann 
endeavored to give from memory some of the instruc- 
tions that are issued from the office of the Minister of 
the Interior, in the shape of blanks, to be filled up 
monthly and sent to the Department for the Preserva- 
tion of Order and Public Safety. 

“ As nearly as I can remember,” said the gentleman, 
“ they require the fullest particulars concerning the 
name, residence, family, habits and occupations, of the 
individual under consideration. They wish to know if 
he lives alone or with some one else, and they want all 
particulars concerning those he lives with. They must 
know the name of his laundress, and her residence, the 
restaurant where he takes his meals, what he eats, and 
what he pays for his food, what library he visits, and 
what books he reads, how he supports himself, what 
time he goes out and returns, and where he goes to 
when not at home. They must know if he is paying 
attention to any woman, who she is, where she lives, 
and how often he calls on her ; if a woman is the sub- 
ject of inquiry they ask the name of her . lover (if any), 


86 


THE SIBERIAN EXILES. 


when, or how often he calls on her, and how long he 
remains. They ask for the name of all a man’s visitors 
and what is done during their visits ; and they also ask 
if he plays cards or is ever intoxicated. 

‘‘So you see,” he continued, “it is dangerous to 
belong to the family of a suspicious person, and equally 
dangerous to be his friend.” 

“ And knowing this danger you did not hesitate to 
do all you could for my poor father,” responded Ivan. 

“ Oh, how good and generous you have been !” 

“ It would have been very dishonorable for me to 
refuse all the help I could give at such a time,” Mr. 
Hartmann replied. “Your father has been a good 
friend to me more than once, and at times when his 
friendship meant a great deal. 

“ What they will do with us when we get to Tambov 
I don’t know,” he continued, “ but it is pretty certain 
^ that we shall be separated at the door of the prison. I 
have sent word to our friend Kosavitch, saying what 
has happened, and he will do whatever he can in our 
behalf. I specially asked him to look after your mother 
and sister, and make their imprisonment as little of a 
hardship as possible. You and I can endure a great 
deal more than these unhappy women, especially Nadia, 
who is so young, and has so little knowledge of the 
world.” 

The gentleman did not say all that he thought, as he 
knew it would greatly distress his young companion, 
without helping matters in the least. We will leave 
them, and look into the other tarantass, which is rapidly 
rolling along towards the city. 

For some time after starting from their home, mother 
and daughter were clasped in a close embrace, and 
each gave way to her grief in a flood of tears. Gradu- 


THE DRAH-NET OF THE POLICE. 


87 


ally the tears were dried and the women became more 
composed. The mother was the first to speak. 

“ You remember Ivan’s words to be a brave girl, do 
you not ?” 

“ Yes, dear mother,” was the reply, “and I will be 
just as brave as I can, so that Ivan will be proud of me. 
But, oh, mother, what will they do with us ?” 

“ I cannot tell, my child, but we shall probably be 
separated when we get to the prison.” 

“ Separated ! dear mother ! shall I be separated 
from you ?” 

“ I fear so, fear it very much.” 

Nadia’s tears flowed again, but she soon repressed 
them with the recollection of her promise to her 
brother that she would be a brave girl. 

“What makes you think we shall be separated, 
mother ?” Nadi asked. 

“ Because that is the custom when people are arrested, 
as we have been, without warning, and without any 
charges so far as we know. Husbands and wives, 
parents and children, brothers and sisters, are thrown 
into prison, and though they may be under the same 
roof, they are never allowed to see or communicate 
with each other. Did you ever hear the story of Marie 
Prisedski.^” 

“ I never did,” was the reply. “ Please tell me about 
it, dear mother.” 

“You are nineteen years old, Nadia,” said Madame 
Pushkin ; “ younger persons than you have been 

arrested and sent into exile, and so you will have need 
to be a brave girl. 

“ Ivan Prisedski was a wealthy land-owner in the 
province of Pultava. He was never suspected of dis- 
loyalty, but all his four children were accused of being 


88 


THE SIBERIAN EXILES. 


‘untrustworthy’ and sent to Siberia. Marie was the 
youngest ; she was sixteen years old, and one day she 
was arrested by order of General Strelnikoff and taken 
to prison. She was placed in a cell by herself, and not 
allowed to see anybody but her guards and the prison 
doctor. Two or three times she tried to speak to the 
guard, but each time she did so, the soldier answered, 
^ ne £'amr// (talking is forbidden)/ 

“ Her cell was small and gloomy, she had no books 
or papers of any kind, and all that she could do was to 
think. At home she had every comfort that her father’s 
wealth could give, and without a moment’s warning she 
had been torn away from these comforts and placed in 
this living tomb. 

“ To weep and to think, to think and to weep, she 
could do nothing more. She was taken to the prison at 
midnight, and all that night she paced the cell in agony. 
Day brought no relief, except the blessed light, and when 
the second night came, she began to feel her mind giv- 
ing way. Then she determined that she would keep 
herself from going insane, and occupied her time in go- 
ing over the lessons she had learned from her teachers, 
making calculations in arithmetic, and repeating the 
boundaries of all the provinces of Russia, the length of 
its rivers, and everything else that she could call to mind. 
In this way she occupied herself, and the days went on 
one after another.” 

“ And how long did they keep her there, all alone, in 
that awful prison ?” 

” Two weeks, fourteen dreary days, after her arrest, 
she was taken from prison and into a court-room, where 
everybody was a stranger to her. General Strelnikoff 
presided in this court and she Was not allowed to have 
anybody to defend her. He began her examination by 


THE DRAG-NET OF THE FOLICE. 89 

saying that she was charged with very serious crimes, 
and was in danger of being exiled to Siberia for a long 
terrri of years.” 

“ And was she really guilty ?” 

“ There was no proof that she had done anything, and 
the whole object of arresting her was to get evidence, 
if possible, against her older sister, who was under sus- 
picion. The general told her that the government 
would consider her youth and inexperience, and if she 
would make a full confession, show that she was repent- 
ant, promise to reform, and answer honestly and truth- 
fully every question he was about to ask, she would be 
set free at once and allowed to go home. 

“ She declared that she knew nothing, and when she 
repeated her declaration after many questions, she was 
sent to Siberia.” 

The woman’s voice choked as she pronounced these 
words, and she could not proceed. When she was able 
to speak, which was not for some minutes, she contin- 
ued : 

“ Perhaps you are under suspicion, my child, and per- 
haps they only seek to make you a witness against your 
father, just as they tried to make this poor Marie a 
witness against her sister.” 

“ But I don’t know anything, not anything, against 
him or anybody else in the world. How can they use 
me as a witneSvS, when I’ve nothing to tell ?” 

“ I understand all that, and I know your father is in- 
nocent of any wrong. But I want to prepare you for 
what may happen, as I know what has happened many 
and many a time in Russia. Youth is no protection as 
I have shown you ; children of fourteen have been ban- 
ished to Siberia as dangerous enemies of the govern- 


90 


THE SIBERIAN EXILES. 


merit, who could not be allowed to live in the places of 
their birth.” 

Again there came silence and tears. The time was 
rapidly passing, and the separation which mother and 
daughter feared was approaching as the tarantass sped 
on its way. 

Nadia had hoped to again see her brother when they 
reached Tambov, but she was doomed to disappointment. 
The tarantass containing the women had been the first to 
start, and consequently was in the lead ; it had been 
driven at a brisk pace, while the one containing the men 
came much more slowly. It had been purposely planned 
to have the women at the prison and in their cells 
before the other vehicle drove into the yard ; the 
driver of the second tarantass had his orders to go 
slowly, and consequently he was a full half hour behind 
the other in the time of its arrival. 

Mother and daughter were sent to different cells, 
as the former had predicted. Their parting was one 
that we will not attempt to describe, further than that 
it was such as to melt the jailers to something like 
kindness, and especially so in the case of the younger 
of the two victims of the imperial will. The warder 
who had Nadia in charge, brought to her cell some 
things that were not on the list of what is supplied to 
prisoners by the government, and he really seemed to 
take pity on account of her youth and apparent inno- 
cence. 

Hartmann and Ivan were likewise placed in different 
cells and forbidden to hold communication. They 
looked the next day and the next and the next for 
a visit from the lawyer Kosavitch, but he came not. 

“ Surely he has not deserted us,” said Hartmann 
to himself, for there was no one else to whom he could 


THE DRAG-NET OF THE POLICE. 


91 


Speak. “ He has not deserted us, I’m certain ; but we’re 
under such close surveillance that the safety of the 
government requires that he should not be permitted 
to see us.” 

And that was exactly the state of affairs. 



CHAPTER IX. 

A FORGED CONFESSION. 

Lest the reader may possibly think that the occur- 
rences narrated in the preceding chapter are not founded 
upon fact, we will here refer to matters which are well 
known in Russia. 

In 1879, Christina Ivitchevitch, seventeen years old, 
and her brother fourteen years old, of Kiev, in the 
southern part of the empire, were exiled to Siberia. 
The charge against them was that their two elder 
brothers were revolutionists, but no complicity was 
shown on the part of the exiled jchildren. They were 
simply members of a dangerous family, and their pres- 
ence in European Russia was a menace to the security 
of the throne of the Czar. They were sent to Kirinsk, 
in the province of Irkutsk, the very heart of Siberia. 

At one time, 118 persons of both sexes, most of them 
young, were arrested in three days in Odessa, in the 
same manner as the arrests which have been described. 
No reasons were given, and it was not even charged 
that the captured individuals had given cause to suspect 
them of disloyalty ; they were taken into custody and 
flung into dungeons in the hope that they would give 
[92j 


4 


A FORGED CONFESSION. 


93 


clews to plots which the police thought might be under 
way, but of which they had no proof. About the same 
time there were nearly as many arrests of the same 
kind in Kiev, and a proportionate number in other 
cities of Southern Russia. School-boys and girls, fifteen, 
sixteen, or seventeen years of age, were numerous 
among the captives, not that they were suspected of 
conspiracy, but because it was thought they might tell 
of the conversation and movements of older members 
of their families. 

Four days after her incarceration, Madame Pushkin 
was informed that an officer of high rank was about 
to visit her. 

She was taken, under guard of course, to the recep- 
tion room of the prison, and there told to wait. In 
a few minutes an officer entered and said : 

“ I am Colonel X of his Imperial Majesty’s ser- 

vice. I do not come here to-day in my official capacity, 
but as a friend who wishes to do you a kindness and 
secure the release of yourself and your daughter.” 

The woman looked intently at him and listened. 

“ Your husband has confessed his guilt and it will be 
useless for you to remain silent any longer. He has 
acknowledged his faults and is sincerely penitent, and 
he wishes you to tell all you know and save the family 
from further trouble.” 

Then he drew a paper from his pocket and read it to 
her. It was, or purported to be, a confession by Push- 
kin, that he had been concerned in plots against the 
government, and especially a recent plot that had been 
formed at Tambov and had for its object the destruc- 
tion of the public buildings and the assassination of the 
governor of the province. It was signed by Pushkin, 


94 


THE SIBERIAN EXILES. 


and witnessed by the law officer of the crown for that 
district. 

After reading the paper he handed it to her, in order, 
as he said, that she might make sure he had given it 
correctly. The signature appeared to be that of her 
husband, and she was dumb with amazement at the con- 
tents of the document. 

“ Did my husband make this confession ?” she asked. 

“ Yes,’' was the reply ; “ I was present when he made 
and signed it. As I said before, I come as a friend and 
not as an officer of the government, and my advice is 
that you send word to the crown officers that you are 
ready to answer truthfully all questions they shall ask. 
It is not necessary that I should be known in the matter, 
as I am acting individually and not officially, and you 
will not be giving any information, but only telling facts 
which are already known.” 

The document was a skillful forgery, and the whole 
confession was a series of guesses with no facts to go 
upon. It was devised in the hope that by means of it 
the woman might be induced to put the police in pos- 
session of clews that would be useful in making arrests ; 
her husband was already on his way to Siberia, and 
therefore nothing more was needed on his account. 

“ If my husband made this confession,” she replied, 
after a long pause, “ he was not in his right mind. 
Some things in it may or may not be true, I cannot 
answer for that, but there are things stated here that I 
know are not true, and that he could not possibly have 
known anything about.” 

“ Then you decline to act upon my friendly advice?” 

I should be stating a lie if I corroborated this paper,” 
she replied, “ There is nothing in it, not a line, that I 


A FORGED CONFESSION. 


95 


know to be true, and there are several things, as I have 
just told 5^ou, that I know to be false.” 

He again urged her to think of her family, and espec- 
ially of Nadia, who might be saved from Siberia if her 
mother would confess. “ Your happiness and future, 
as well as hers, are at stake,” he added, “ and you have 
the choice for both of you of the mines of Siberia or 
your own home again.” 

She wept at the picture he presented, but she had no 
confession to make and repeated her assertion. The 
officer saw that the search for information in that quar- 
ter was useless, and after another refusal he rose 
to go. 

She was taken back to her cell, and there gave way 
to her feelings in another flood of tears. 

Then Nadia was sent for and subjected to the same 
ordeal. The same story was told, false from beginning 

to end : that Colonel X came not as an official 

of the government, but as a personal friend, that he 
wished to save such a young girl from the horrors of 
exile to Siberia, and all that she had to do was to say 
that so far as she knew and believed her father’s con- 
fession was true, and that she was sorry for anything 
she had done that might in any way be construed as 
disloyal to their august master and sovereign, the 
Czar. 

The poor girl could say nothing, for the very simple 
reason that she knew nothing. This she averred over 
and over again, and after each averment the result of 
her persistence in denial was set forth in all its horrors. 
She would condemn, not only herself, but the mother 
whom she loved, to exile in Siberia for a long term of 
years ; the family would be broken up and might never 
again be united, her own life would be blasted, and all 


96 


tHE SIB?:mAN EXILES. 


might be saved if she would only do what her good 
friend wished. It grieved him to the heart to see her 
so obstinate, as he felt sure that it was only the thought- 
lessness of youth that controlled her. 

Nadia cried and threw herself on the bench where 
she sat in an agony of despair. Her inquisitor contin- 
ued to urge her to a confession, and even intimated that 
she would do well to go beyond the truth, rather than 
suffer the penalties he had portrayed. 

“You would have me swear falsely against my 
father, would you ?” she said, rising to her feet and 
quickly wiping away her tears. “ Have me .swear to 
what I know is not true ! I would rather go to Siberia 
for the rest or my life than be a perjured witness to 
send my father there. I will tell you all the truth, and 
have told you everything I knew already.” 

She dropped again to the bench and was silent. It 
was evident that no information could be obtained from 
her, and the interview was brought to an end. The 
girl swooned and fell to the floor ; she was carried to 
her cell, and for hours lay there unconscious. 

The foregoing is one of the methods employed by the 
Russian police to obtain evidence. Forged confessions 
are taken to prisoners in the manner described, and not 
infrequently the victim falls into the trap so skillfully 
set. Sometimes the feelings of parents are wrought 
upon by telling them that their sons and daughters are 
about to be hanged, and the only escape for the young 
people will be through confession of their wrong ; the 
terror-stricken parents are then brought to the cells 
where their children are held, and we can readily ima- 
gine how their tears and entreaties are exerted to bring 
about the desired confessions. 

And all the time the police have no proof by which 


A FOEGED CONFESSION. 


97 


the children can be hanged, or even kept in custody 
by process of law, and their sole object is to obtain 
proof through confession. During these interviews, 
which are painful enough to melt the hardest heart, the 
imperial prosecutor or one of his representatives stands 
outside the cell ready to take down the confession when 
the victim consents to say what is wanted. 

Picture to yourself a mother bowed with grief and 
bathed in tears, imploring her son by all the reverence 
he holds for her gray hairs, by his love for her and for 
his father, by his dread of the scaffold or of long exile, 
pressing her face against his, and even falling at his 
feet in her despair, and begging, oh ! so pleadingly, that 
he will answer the questions which are to be asked by 
the officials. Not till he answers them can she smile 
again, and without his penitence, she would rather the 
grave would open to receive her. 

She is seeing him for the last time, unless he yields 
to her entreaties. The scaffold or Siberia will claim 
him for their own, and she will abandon hope as she 
passes out of the prison gate. Terrible is the ordeal 
for one who has thus before him the temptation to be- 
tray his friends, to save himself, and dry his mother’s 
tears. Terrible, too, is the ordeal when the prisoner is 
ignorant of all complicity in acts that threaten the 
safety of the empire, and has simply been thrown into 
prison in the hope that thereby some information, or a 
clew to it, may be obtained. 

Successively the same forged confession was pre- 
sented to Mr. Hartmann and to Ivan, and with the same 
result. Afterwards, in order to terrify them, each of 
the four prisoners was confined in a darkened cell, 
or, rather, iron hoods were placed over the windows 
of the cells they occupied. They were thus de- 


98 


THE SIBERIAN EXILES. 


prived of light and air ; there was a small crevice 
at the top of each hood, just enough to admit suffi- 
cient air to prevent suffocation, and sufficient light to 
enable the prisoner to discern indistinctly the extent 
of the walls, and then only by straining the vision. 
The cells were thus converted into gloomy caverns 
like the oubliettes of the Bastile, or those subterranean 
dungeons beneath the palace of the Doge of Venice, 
where state criminals were confined and perished. 

This was similar to the measure adopted by General 
Strelnikoff at Odessa in 1882, in endeavoring to coerce 
some political prisoners into supplying him with the 
evidence he desired. It has been tried in other parts 
of the empire, but never with any great success. In 
the case of General Strelnikoff, the erection of hoods 
over the windows of the cells led indirectly to his 
assassination ; the day after his death the official who 
succeeded him ordered the removal of the obnoxious 
coverings of the windows, and the prisoners suggested 
that the material might be used for the erection of a 
monument to Strelnikoff’s memory. 

Through one of the warders of the prison, with whom 
he had established friendly relations (of a financial 
character), Mr. Kosavitch was kept informed of what 
was going on within the walls. He repeatedly asked 
permission to visit the prisoners ; he endeavored to 
convince the governor that they had a right to see their 
counsel, but the governor peremptorily refused the 
desired privilege. Next he sought the aid of the keeper, 
but though the latter was willing enough to earn an 
honest penny, he felt that he would be running alto- 
gether too great a risk in permitting the lawyer to 
enter the prison without authority. He would very 
likely be found out, and discovery would mean the loss 


A FORGED CONFESSION. 


99 


of his situation and his liberty at the same time. 
Instead of watching the departure of others for Siberia, 
he would very likely be going there himself. 

Mr. Kosavitch had adopted a cautious method of 
obtaining from the warder his daily budget of news. 
When the warder was relieved from duty, he went home 
to his family ; the lawyer knew the road he would take, 
and very nearly the time when he would pass, and he 
managed to be at a convenient spot along the route at 
the proper time. 

As the warder approached and saw the lawyer, the 
latter would be absorbed in something that had just 
attracted his attention. At one time he was looking 
into the window of a shop, at another he was measur- 
ing the diameter and height of a lamp-post, at another he 
was looking for a knife he had just dropped in the 
street. The warder paused to look at whatever occupied 
the lawyer’s attention, and this naturally brought their 
heads within whispering distance of each other. Then, 
in the lowest tones, the warder told what he wished to 
communicate, but without looking at Mr. Kosavitch or 
appearing to speak to him. When he finished talking, 
he had apparently satisfied his curiosity and moved on, 
while the other man strolled away in the opposite 
direction. 

In this way the lawyer learned of the forged confes- 
sion and the attempt to extort its approval from each 
of the four prisoners, and he also learned of the darken- 
ing of the cells. The latter information was conveyed 
as he was looking for his pocket-knife in the dust of 
the street, and though he indicated no emotion by 
his outward demeanor, his face flushed with anger, and 
he restrained himself with difficulty. And every one 
who is familiar with lawyers is aware that it is no 


100 


THE SIBERIAN EXILES. 


ordinary circumstance which rouses them to anything 
like emotion. 

As he recovered his knife and thanked the warder 
for helping him to find it, he turned rather quickly on 
his heel, in fact, a good deal more quickly than usual. 

“That is brutal business,” he said to himself. “Try 
to make a woman betray her husband, a daughter and 
son to betray their father, and when they fail in their 
effort they darken the windows of the prisoners’ cells. 
I’ll go to the governor about it the very first thing 
to-morrow morning.” 

With this resolve he went home and spent a part of 
the evening in making up his mind as to exactly what 
he would say to that high official. He framed an 
admirable speech for the occasion, and went to bed in 
the confident hope that he would be able to turn this 
cruelty towards the prisoners into something for their 
advantage. 

“ I don’t believe the governor would permit anything 
of the kind if he knew it,” the lawyer said to himself, as 
he settled down to rest. “ But the trouble is that the 

matter may be out of his jurisdiction ; Colonel X 

may be acting under the direct orders of the Czar, and 
therefore quite independently, not only of the governor, 
but of the Minister of the Interior. Such things have 
happened in more instances than one. 

“ I won’t say to myself what I think about the way 
things are managed in the empire,” was his next thought, 
“ or I might find myself guilty of violating Section 245 
of the Penal Code, and be liable to be sent to Siberia.” 
Then he settled a little deeper into his pillow and went 
to sleep. 

Here is the paragraph of the Code that was in his 
mind : 


A FOKGED CONFESSION. 


101 


“ Section 245. All persons found guilty of composing 
and circulating written or printed documents, books, or 
representations, calculated to create disrespect for the 
Supreme Authority, or for the personal character of the 
GOSSUDAR (the Czar) or for the government of his 
Empire, shall be condemned, as insulters of MAJESTY, 
to deprivation of all civil rights, and to from ten to 
twelve years of penal servitude.’ 

Mr. Kosavitch slept fairly well and was promptly at 
the door of the governor’s office when it opened to 
visitors the next day. Two or three others were there 
before him, and he was required to wait a half hour or 
more till his turn came to have an audience with the 
representative of Imperial authority. 



CHAPTER X. 

OVER THE SIBERIAN FRONTIER. 

We left Pushkin as the steamboat on which he was a 
prisoner was ascending the Volga on its way from 
Saratov to Kasan and Perm. 

The plot to escape was discussed by Dubayeif and 
Pushkin after the former had succeeded in inducing his 
fellow prisoner to cease thinking of home for a while 
and consider their immediate circumstances. The plan 
was to loosen a few of the gratings that formed the cage, 
and for this purpose some of the prisoners had secured 
two or three files. A sentinel constantly paced the 
deck at each side of the cage ; the prisoners were to 
assemble in a group at one side of the cage, some stand- 
ing and others sitting, for the ostensible purpose of 
whiling away the time with songs. This would be 
nothing unusual and unlikely to excite suspicion ; every 
time the sentinel’s back was turned those who held the 
files were to cut at the iron and instantly cease opera- 
tions when their guard wheeled about at the end of his 
walk. 

The singing would drown the sound of the files and 
if no inspection should be made of the gratings enough 
of the rods might be- cut away at the bottom to allow 
[ 102 ] 


OVER THE SIBERIAN FRONTIER. 


103 


room for a man to pass through when they were bent 
aside. As the work progressed, the notches cut by the 
files were to be filled with paste made from the rye 
bread supplied as a part of the rations whenever oper- 
ations were suspended. Later on, the files would be 
used to loosen the rivets of the ankle-irons, and all would 
then be ready for the last act of the plot. 

One of the prisoners was to start a fire in their sleep- 
ing quarters, and at the flash everybody was to rush on 
deck in apparent alarm. The attention of the guards 
would naturally be drawn to the commotion below deck, 
and this would be the opportunity for throwing off the 
irons, opening the grating and dropping off into the 
river. Once in the water each man was to take his own 
chances and exercise his judgment about making his 
way to the shore. 

All was arranged, and the prisoners assembled for the 
singing and filing which was to set them free. But the 
first stroke of the file had not been made before the 
officer in charge of the convoy ordered the sentinel to 
cease his walk along the deck and stand where he 
could keep the group continually in view. Evidently 
he had dealt with a similar plot on a previous voyage. 

Dubayeff and Pushkin had not joined the group, but 
were in another part of the cage. When the officer 
gave the order for the sentinel to watch the singers, the 
former said to his friend : 

“I was doubtful at the start of the success of the 
scheme, but as the rest were willing to try it I made no 
opposition.” 

“ They’ll probably devise something new,” Pushkin 
responded, “ now that their first plan has failed.” 

“ Undoubtedly,” was the reply. “ Within three hours 


104 


THE SIBERIAN EXILES. 


we shall hear of it, unless this convoy is different from 
all others Tve ever known.” 

“ Ever since I was arrested,” said the other “ my 
thoughts have run almost continuously upon how I 
could get away.” 

“ That is the case with nearly everybody,” Dubayeff 
replied, “ and will be as long as prisons and prisoners 
exist. The prisoner’s time is largely occupied with 
designs for eluding the vigilance of those who have him 
in charge, and however futile may be his plots, they 
serve to occupy him and keep him filled with hope. As 
long as he is planning to escape, he is in little danger of 
losing his reason ; the danger comes when he has 
abandoned hope and given himself up to despair.” 

“ I suppose there are a hundred plans made for every 
one that is tried.” 

“ Say a thousand instead of a hundred and you would 
be nearer the mark. Ninety-nine hundredths of the 
plots are exactly like those that have been tried before 
by others ; experienced officers know how to provide 
against them, as you have just seen. Prisoners on board 
a steamboat as we are, would be very likely to get 
together to sing the songs that are known to them, and 
these fellows thought that such an movement would not 
excite suspicion. Others have thought so before them 
and done as they did ; the officers had reason to suspect 
a plot of some kind, and forewarned is forearmed. 

“ Another way of escaping, which everybody thinks of 
is to form a conspiracy among the prisoners to free them- 
selves of their irons at a given signal, the rivets having 
been previously filed, and then rush upon the guards, 
using the irons as weapons. It has been tried many 
times, I could almost say hundreds of them, and was 
successful in a few instances. But in the great majority 


OVER THE SIBERIAN FRONTIER. 


105 


of cases the prisoners are shot down and nobody gets 
away. When an attempt of this kind succeeds, the run- 
aways scatter in every direction, either singly or by 
twos and threes, and are thrown on their own resources. 
They are sure to be pursued, and the chances are con- 
siderably against them.” 

“ Do the peasantry in Siberia help the police to 
catch runaways ?” 

“ As a general thing they do not, but now and then 
there is a fellow who will do whatever he can in surren- 
dering them in order to get the reward. Most of the 
peasants are kind to runaways ; they give them food and 
direct them to outbuildings where they can find shelter. 
Many of them place loaves of bread on the sills of their 
windows before going to bed, so that a runaway may 
obtain food without being seen. They also plant patches 
of turnips outside the villages, with the special object of 
affording food to escaped prisoners. When the police 
or soldiers find these turnip-patches, they trample them 
and destroy the plants.” 

Contrary to Dubayeff’s prediction, there was no fur- 
ther plot to escape from the steamboat, though their 
brodyag friend intimated that there would be one. 
They reached Perm without any incident of conse- 
quence ; there the convoy was sent to the forwarding 
prison, where it remained two days, and was then sent 
forward by railway along with a hundred and more 
prisoners that had been brought from Moscow and 
points beyond that city. 

The railway train started in the evening, and the 
prisoners were crowded closely into convict cars for a full 
hour before the time of leaving the station. There was 
just room enough for the occupants of a car to lie on 
the floor, and each man used his overcoat for a covering 


106 


THE SIBERIAN EXILES. 


and his bag of extra garments for a pillow. The cars 
were securely locked before starting, and at every sta- 
tion where the train stopped the locks were examined, 
to make sure they had not been tampered with. 

At the end of the railway, the prisoners were taken 
to a forwarding prison, just as they had been at Perm, 
to wait for the formation of a convoy. They were now 
in Siberia, the boundary between Europe and Asia hav- 
ing been passed while they were on the railway train. 

“ Pm not sure that I’ve told you this is not my first 
journey to Siberia,” said Dubayeff to Pushkin soon after 
they had crossed the frontier. “ But I’ll tell you so now, 
and later, if we are kept together. I’ll let you know 
more about it. 

“ There were many things about my first visit that I 
shall never forget, and one of the most memorable is 
that of crossing the frontier. We were marching then, 
as there was no railway, and one afternoon, when the 
air was keen and frosty and the roads rough from 
recent rains followed by freezing cold, we came to the 
boundary. 

“We were weary and footsore, and many had broken 
down and been placed in the string of telyegas that 
followed the column for the use of the old and infirm. 
Many were in despair because they were soon to 
leave Russia behind them and enter another country ; 
although Siberia is a part of the Empire, those who go 
to it unwillingly look upon it as altogether another 
land than their own. 

“ There was the boundary post, a column of brick 
covered with stucco, indicating that to the west lay 
Europe, while to the eastward was Asia. The officer 
who commanded the convoy ordered a halt for the 


OVER THE SIBERIAN FRONTIER. 


107 


double purpose of allowing us to rest and to bid fare- 
well to Europe. 

“ I sat down on the ground and cried, cried like a 
child, to think I was leaving the land of my birth ; then 
I rose and kissed the western side of the boundary -post 
as I would have kissed the cheek of one to whom I was 
bidding a long farewell. Others were doing likewise, 
while some kissed the earth beneath our feet and called 
the names of friends whom they feared they would never 
see again. Several tried to write words of farewell on 
the rough stucco, and others passed the time of the halt 
in prayer. 

“Our officer was kind to us, and for more than an 
hour we were allowed to stop. Then, at the word of 
command, we were drawn up in line and carefully 
counted, to see that none had escaped, and when the 
count was completed the order to march was given. 
We were two hundred in that unhappy convoy ; out of 
the two hundred it is not likely that more than twenty 
have seen or will ever see the soil of Europe again." 

As he ceased speaking Dubayeff buried his face in 
his hands and wept at the recollection of the scene. 

There can hardly be in all the empire of Russia a 
more melancholy spot that the site of the post where 
the eastbound traveller enters Siberia. How many 
thousands, yes, how many hundreds of thousands, have 
dragged their chains along this road, and have here 
said farewell forever to the land of their birth ! Since 
the days of Peter the Great, the originator of the system 
of exile to Siberia, a million prisoners have passed this 
spot, men, women, and children, of all social ranks, 
from the highest noble to the lowest peasant, from 
the favorite of the Czar to the outcast of the poorest 


108 


THE SIBERIAN EXILES. 


village. To nearly all of them Siberia has been, in 
every way, a place of burial. 

“ We are buried in Siberia,” said Dubayeff, when 
talking of the effect of banishment. “ We cease to exist, 
our names are forgotten, our heirs can claim our prop- 
erty unless, as generally happens, it is confiscated by 
the crown, and our wives, if we have any, become 
widows and can marry again if they choose.” 

“ And do many of them do that ?” Pushkin asked. 

“ To the credit of the sex I tell you that the number 
is small and very largely confined to the criminal classes. 
There are very few instances in which the wives of 
political exiles have done otherwise than remain faith- 
ful to the love which they gave their husbands at the 
altar. Thousands of wives have followed their hus- 
bands into captivity, though every one of them well 
knew that by so doing she must share the hardships of 
exile, and could not return to Europe until he was 
released by expiration of sentence, pardon or death. 
Many who have been urged by their husbands to 
remain in Europe have not complied with the request, 
and others, while complying with it for the sake of their 
children, have continued faithful through years and 
years of waiting, to go to Siberia when their children 
had reached an adult age, or to welcome the returning 
husband when his sentence had expired. 

“ Several of the Decembrists had been married only 
a short time before the events that sent them to Siberia. 
They were, without exception, I believe, followed by 
their young wives, through all the hardships and perils 
of the long journey. Princess Troubetskoi was the 
first of them, and for some time the government refused 
to allow her to go. When finally the favor she asked 


OVER THE 8IBEKIAN FRONTIER. 


109 


was granted, she was notified that she would never be 
permitted to return to Europe." 

“ And she readily accepted the condition, did she ?" 

“Yes, she started in midwinter, with her servant 
maid, and travelled to Nertchinsk, nearly seven thous- 
and versts (5,000 miles) in a sleigh. She had several 
narrow escapes from death, and on more than one 
occasion was pursued by wolves ; they ran alongside the 
sleigh, and if the horses had stumbled and fallen there 
would have been nothing but scattered bones, fragments 
of clothing and harness, and the abandoned vehicle to 
tell the story to whoever passed along the route the 
following day. At one time she was lost in a storm, 
and when it abated she was nearly famished for want 
of food. She frequently travelled when the cold was 
very severe, and sometimes on reaching the stations 
where the horses were changed, she was so benumbed 
with the cold as to be unable to stand. 

“ At the mines of Nertchinsk, her husband, Prince 
Troubetskoi, was working underground, and when she 
embraced him, the clanking of the chains told more 
plainly than words his condition of bondage. She was 
restricted to prison fare, was not allowed to visit any of 
the residents of the village, and could only see her hus- 
band once a week. A month or two after her arrival 
two other ladies arrived, and then she had some com- 
panionship, but the contrast between the home of the 
exiles and the life they had led in St. Petersburg was 
so great that I wonder they survived it." 

“ And I vronder, too," said Pushkin. “ Those women 
must have been very devoted and very brave." 

“No more so than thousands of others," was the 
reply. “ The stories of the heroism of the wives of 
exiles would fill volumes, and even then all would not 


110 


THE SIBERIAN EXILES. 


have been told. Many of these noble women have never 
reached the loved ones they followed ; they died of 
fatigue and exposure while on the journey, and their 
graves are in many a Siberian cemetery, or along the 
roadside. Not a few have become insane, hopelessly 
so, and died in the hospitals, or wandered out into the 
wilderness, where they perished of hunger and cold. 
Did you ever hear the story of Dr. Baillie’s wife 

“ I never did,” answered Pushkin. “ Who was she ?” 

“ She was married to a young surgeon who was exiled 
by administrative process, without trial, on the suspic- 
ion of the police that he was ‘ untrustworthy.’ His wife 
was ill and unable to accompany him when he started ; 
as soon as she was able to travel she set out, and as she 
could not afford to hire post-horses and a tarantass, she 
went with an exile party, living on prison fare, walking 
when they walked, lodging where they lodged, and in 
every way being treated as a prisoner. She was in the 
same convoy that I was in from Tiumen to Tomsk, and 
I heard all about her, but it was months afterwards 
that I learned the end of her sad story. 

“ She began to show signs of breaking down some 
time before she reached Irkutsk, but was held up by 
the hope that she would soon see her husband, whom 
she supposed to be in Verkholensk, which is less than 
200 miles from Irkutsk ; he was really in Verkhoyansk, 
2,500 miles further away. Her mind remained fairly 
good until she learned that she had still such a long 
distance to go, and then she became a raving lunatic 
and died in the hospital at Irkutsk.” 

Here Dubayeff paused, his voice was so choked that 
he could not say more, and as for Pushkin, he was unable 
to speak. When at length they were able to resume 


OVER THE SIBERIAN FRONTIER. 


Ill 


their conversation, they changed by silent but mutual 
consent to a less harrowing subject. 

The convoy was allowed to rest two or three days 
before setting out on the road ; fortunately for Pushkin 
and Dubayeff, as for all the others, the prison was not 
crowded, and the food supplied to them was of better 
quality than they had found while on the railway and 
before reaching Perm. The worst feature of the 
establishment was the contracted quarters where they 
slept, and the foul air they were compelled to breathe 
at night. There was little ventilation, the advantage 
of fresh air is a subject that is not studied in Russia, 
notwithstanding the abundance of that article, and the 
builders of prisons have little knowledge of sanitary 
requirements. • 

And while these unhappy exiles are resting in the 
forwarding prison we will return for a time to Tambov 
and to those whom we last saw there. 



CHAPTER XI. 

THE GOVERNOR AND THE LAWYER, 

The governor greeted Mr. Kosavitch courteously as 
the latter entered the office, and after a few polite 
phrases the lawyer referred to the object of his visit. 

“ I have come,” said he, “ on behalf of four prisoners, 
two of them women, now detained at Tambov.” 

“ Who are they ?” 

“ Nicolai Hartmann, and the wife, son, and daughter, 
of Carl Pushkin.” 

“ What do you wish to say concerning them ?” 

“ I respectfully ask that I may be informed of the 
charges against them. I have been retained as their 
counsel, and come to you in my professional capacity. 
I also ask to be permitted to visit them professionally.” 

“ They are detained by order of the Minister of the 
Interior.” 

“ I understand that,” Mr. Kosavitch answered, “ but 
what are the charges against them ?” 

“ They have been arrested under administrative pro- 
cess in the interest of the preservation of social order 
throughout the empire.” 


THE GOVERNOR AND THE LAWYER. 


113 


“ Certainly, Your Excellency, we are aware of that, 
and I wish to ask in what way their conduct has been 
prejudicial to social order.” 

“ It is the custom of the government to arrest those 
whose conduct is not in accordance with the best 
interests of the country. You are aware that in recent 
years there have been many acts of individuals in 
various parts of the empire that have brought them in 
a condition to be considered untrustworthy. There 
have been many violations of the regulations, and 
especially of Section 245, especially in St. Petersburg 
and in the south of the empire, at Odessa, Kiev, and 
other places.” 

“ I am well aware of that,” said the lawyer, and I 
am also aware that there have been many persons 
arrested and held in prison for years without trial. 
The records show that out of more than one thousand 
persons arrested for alleged untrustworthiness, and held 
in prison for various periods of from one to four years, 
only one hundred and ninety-three have ever been 
brought to trial, and of this number no fewer than 
ninety were acquitted by the courts, even when the 
judges were selected by the government.” 

“You had better confine yourself to the case before 
you,” the governor answered sharply, forgetting, 
apparently, that in his answers to the lawyer’s ques- 
tions he had himself wandered as far as he could from 
the subject under consideration. 

Mr. Kosavitch was about to add to his remarks that 
the other eight hundred of the arrested persons had 
been sent to Siberia without any trial whatever, or 
were liberated when the government had been con- 
vinced, in spite of all its efforts to secure evidence 


114 


THE SIBERIAN EXILES. 


against them, that they were wholly innocent of any 
wrong-doing. 

We will say here, as it is quite pertinent to the sub- 
ject under consideration, that in the ten years from 
1867 to 1876 inclusive, 151,585 persons were sent to 
Siberia, of whom 51 per cent., or more than half, were 
exiled by administrative process. In seven years, from 
1880 to 1886 inclusive, 120,065 were exiled altogether, 
and of this number 55,552, or about 46 per cent., went 
into banishment by administrative process, or without 
trial. The order of the Minister of the Interior was 
sufficient for the purpose, as we have already seen in 
the case of Carl Pavloif. 

The intimation of the governor, conveyed so emphat- 
ically, was a sufficient warning to Mr. Kosavitch that 
he had gone beyond the bounds of caution. The speech 
that he had prepared was not delivered, as he knew that 
it would be worse than loist upon his audience of one, 
however select that audience might be considered. 

“ I will try to confine mjrself to the case,” said the 
lawyer, and again beg to ask your Excellency what 
are the specific acts of insubordination charged against 
the prisoners.” 

“ That belongs with the Minister of the Interior,” was 
the reply, “ and when this bureau is instructed to enlighten 
you further, I will send for you. Meantime, there is no 
authority to make public anything more on the subject.” 

“ Your Excellency is a husband and a father,” the 
lawyer continued. “In the name of all your tender 
feelings for the members of your family I beg that you 
will consider the case of the two women, mother and 
daughter, the wife and child of Carl Pushkin, who are 
now in pri.son in Tambov and separated from each other. 
Surely your Excellency will admit that whatever the 


THE GOVERNOR AND THE LAWYER. 


115 


charges against them may be, the empire can suffer no 
detriment if they are allowed to occupy the same cell 
in the prison and have the solace of one another’s pres- 
ence, and of the love which each bears towards the 
other.” 

“They are the wife and daughter of Carl Pushkin, 
you say ?” the governor answered, as if he heard this 
statement for the first time. 

“ Certainly,” was the reply, “ the wife and only daugh- 
ter. The only son is now in prison, and also Nicolai 
Hartmann, a neighbor and friend.” 

“ Ah, yes, and Carl Pushkin, where is he 

“ I know not, your Excellency, but presume he is on 
the road to Siberia. He was arrested under administra- 
tive process, confined in prison at Tambov for some 
days, and was then removed in the night. No informa- 
tion has been given as to his whereabouts, but I learn 
from a friend that he was seen in Saratov in a party of 
prisoners embarking on the steamer for Perm.” 

“ Ah, yes, Carl Pavloff, surnamed Pushkin, and his 
wife and daughter are in prison.” 

The governor turned to look at some papers on his 
desk as a hint to the lawyer that the interview was 
ended. The hint was taken and Mr. Kosavitch departed. 

He went away disappointed, as he had hoped to 
accomplish something in behalf of his clients, but the 
words and manner of the governor had been what we 
have seen. Not a hint of the charges against any of 
the prisoners, not a thread on which to hang the least 
hope ! He would be sent for when it was necessary 
that he should be further enlightened ; this was said in 
a way to imply that until such time as he received 
a summons to call at the gubernatorial bureau, any 


116 


THE SIBERIAN EXILES. 


applications in behalf of his friends would be not only 
useless but considered an impertinence. 

But that evening-, when he met his friend, the warder 
of the prison, he found that his appeal to the governor 
had not been without effect 

He was examining an iron plow which had been left 
at the side of the sparsely travelled street after having 
been used for turning up the soil of a neighboring, 
garden. The interest he showed in this article of 
agriculture was such as to indicate that it was quite 
new to him, and sufficient to attract the attention and 
rouse the curiosity of the passing warder. 

As the latter looked at the plow, he said in an under- 
tone : 

“ At three o’clock this afternoon, Madame Pushkin 
and her daughter were placed in one cell, and the 
smatritel (keeper) said he had orders to allow them to 
remain together.” 

“ God be praised !” ejaculated the lawyer. “ The 
governor has a heart after all.” 

The warder did not comment upon Kosavitch’s re- 
mark, as he considered it more an expression of feeling 
than something addressed to himself. He went on 
without emotion, or the least sign of it. 

“ No orders were issued in the case of Hartmann 
and young Pushkin, but I overheard something indis- 
tinctly that the smatritel was saying to another warder, 
which makes me think they’ll be allowed to see each 
other every day. S?jtotre (Look) !” 

By this time he had finished his examination of 
the agricultural implement and continued his homeward 
walk. As he spoke the last word and moved away, 
he dropped at the lawyer’s feet a small wad of paper. 


THE GOVERNOR AND THE LAWYER. 


117 


which the latter picked up while stooping to see how 
the clevis was fastened to the beam of the plow”. 

Very quietly the paper was conveyed to the pocket 
of its recipient, and it was not removed until he was 
safe within his house and secure from observation. It 
could not be a long letter, as the ball was not larger than 
a pea, and nearly the color of the ground where it fell, 
but notwithstanding its appearance it was very precious 
to the recipient. 

This mode of communication was long in use in the 
Petropavlovsk prison at St. Petersburg. The prisoners 
in solitary confinement were exercised separately for 
ten minutes daily, in the court-yard. They had a 
cipher alphabet, known only to themselves, and by writ- 
ing with the burnt end of a match upon scraps of cigar- 
ette paper, which they carefully treasured, they were 
able to give information which was necessarily very 
brief. The writer inclosed his communication in a 
pill, made from the rye bread which forms a part of 
the prisoner’s daily ration, and when the guards came 
to accompany him in his walk, he would take the pill 
in his mouth before changing his dress. 

In the yard, he watched his chance to drop the pill, 
and it would subsequently be picked up by a prisoner 
who stooped under the pretense of arranging his shoe 
or some other deception. Having obtained the pill, he 
placed it in his mouth, and retained it until he was left 
alone again in his cell. In this way important news 
was often conveyed, such as the names of persons 
arrested, condemned, escaped, or dead, movements of 
the revolutionary party, steps that had been taken 
by the government, or other events. Even should the 
messages be intercepted, they could not be understood 
by the guards, as they were always given in cipher. 


118 


THE SIBERIAN EXILES. 


Mr. Kosavitch was not an adept in cipher writing, 
and the same was the case with his correspondent in 
prison, who was none other than Mr. Hartmann. He 
wrote to advise the lawyer to communicate with a cer- 
tain individual in St. Petersburg, whose address he gave, 
and tell him all that had happened. He further advised 
that his son, Alexei, could be implicitly trusted in every- 
thing that pertained to the Pushkin family as well as 
his own, for reasons that will readily be surmised. The 
letter was necessarily short, as the scrap of paper on 
which it was written was less than two inches square ; 
both sides were closely covered with the writing, which 
was done with a splinter of wood dipped in soot accum- 
ulated from a lamp and moistened with saliva. Writ- 
ing materials are denied to political prisoners in nearly 
all cases ; sometimes those who are held for long terms 
are permitted a few ^sheets of coarse paper on which 
they may compose poems, stories, or anything else that 
is harmless, but the written sheets must be delivered to 
the guards without mutilation. 

Mr. Hartmann had asked permission to write a letter 
to his family about certain matters, purely domestic, 
but this very reasonable request was refused. Ivan 
asked to be allowed something to read, a history of the 
country, copies of old magazines, anything that the 
most exacting censor could not pronounce injurious, 
but he was told that all reading was strictly forbidden, 
except by permission of the Minister of the Interior. 

“Very well, then,” said he to the prison-keeper, 
“ give me pen, ink, and a sheet of paper, and I will 
write to the minister, asking him to allow me to read 
books, and if he has any choice he can name the vol- 
umes.” 

“You must first get his permission to have the paper 


THE GOVERNOR AND THE LAWYER. 


119 


on which to write,” was the reply, “ for the use of writ- 
ing- materials is forbidden.” 

Then he walked away and left the youth to wonder 
how he could possibly send a petition to the minister, 
when he was not allowed to have the materials for its 
preparation. 

This reminds us of the case of a Mr. X , who was 

sent to Siberia solely because he was an acquaintance of 
Mr. Y , who had been suspected of being “ untrust- 
worthy,” and was therefore arrested. Mr. Y re- 

mained some months in prison, and was then tried and ac- 
quitted, but meantime X , whose only crime had been 

that he was acquainted with Y , was in chains on his 

way to Siberia, where he was required to serve out his 
sentence. One can ponder upon the principle of jus- 
tice on which the Russian government acted in this 
case, just as Ivan pondered upon the logic that refused 
him the paper on which to write a petition that would 
have been an entirely proper one for him to indite. 

Ivan asked for the opportunity to keep a journal of 
the thoughts that occurred to him in his prison life, but, 
of course, he was unable to do so. And it is very doubt- 
ful if the government would have allowed him to pre- 
serve a record of what passed through his mind, as it 
certainly would have been far from flattering to these 
in whose power he was held. 

Of his daily fare he afterwards wrote as follows : 

“ I had black bread and tea in the morning, and 
tea and black bread in the evening ; for dinner, a little 
past noon, they gave me cabbage soup, sometimes with 
karsha (parched barley) and sometimes without. The 
soup was supposed to have a piece of meat in it, but 
this was mostly supposition, as I did not find it one time 


120 


THE SIBERIAN EXILES. 


in three. Even when it could be found, the piece was 
very small. 

“ They served the soup in a wooden bowl, and I ate it 
with a wooden spoon, no metal being allowed for fear 
that it would be converted into weapons. My guard 
stood over me while I was at dinner, and took away 
the bowl and spoon as soon as the last mouthful was 
swallowed ; then he gave me five cigarettes and as 
many matches, and this was my allowance for twenty- 
four hours. How I treasured those cigarettes and 
made them last as long as possible !” 

It is proper to explain that in Russia nearly the whole 
population that can afford to do so smokes. Smoking is 
almost as common with women as among men ; un- 
married ladies do not, as a rule, smoke in the presence 
of gentlemen, but married ones are not so particular. 
Cigarettes (papiros) are generally preferred to cigars, 
especially by the gentler sex, and the consumption of 
these articles is enormous. Exactly when Ivan adopted 
the smoking habit it is difficult to say, but he was cer- 
tain to acquire it during his student life at Moscow if 
not a great deal earlier. 

“ I was constantly watched,” said Ivan, “ through the 
‘Judas’ in the door, and it seemed at times as though 
this watching would drive me mad. It was contrary to 
rules to speak to the guard, except to ask for what was 
proper, and that was very little, and so there were hours 
and hours together when I couldn’t say a word. I sat 
down in a corner and talked to myself, but the guard 
stopped me from that ; he said the orders were ‘ talking 
is forbidden,’ and it made no difference if a man talked 
to himself or somebody else. 


THE GOVERNOR AND THE LAWYER. 


121 


“ Day after day went on in this way until once, just 
after my dinner, the guard came and said there was a 
visitor for me. Then he went away, not telling who the 
visitor was or whether he was to see me in my cell or in 
the reception-room. How my heart throbbed during 
the minutes that I stood at the door of my cell and 
waited !’' 



CHAPTER XII. 

SPIES AND THEIR WORK. 

Ivan waited for the door of his cell to be opened, 
either for the visitor to be admitted to see him where he 
was confined, or that the guard should take him to the 
reception-room of the prison. But in both expectations 
he was disappointed. 

The door was opened, but it was only to admit a 
soldier, or rather one of the warders. Then the door 
was closed and locked, and Ivan turned to his companion 
with the inquiry : 

“ Are you the visitor that was coming to see me ?” 

“Talking is forbidden,” was the only reply he 
received. 

A moment later the youth’s attention was drawn to a 
noise outside as of some one approaching. The guard 
opened the wicket in the door and the youth peered out- 
side as far as he could. Soon the visitor for whom he 
was waiting came within the range of his vision. 

Great was his joy to perceive that it was his mother. 
But his joy was turned to disappointment, when he 
found that the interview could only take place through 
the wicket ; he could not clasp her in his arms, feel the 
pressure of her hand, or smooth the locks on her fore- 
1122] 


SPIES AND THEIR WORK. 


123 


head as he had often done at home. They were required 
to stand with the door between them, and every word 
that they spoke was heard by two of their guards. 

Not only were their words listened to, but every play 
of their features, every look and motion, were carefully 
observed. The guard inside the cell stood directly 
behind Ivan, his face being just over the latter’s 
shoulder, and the guard outside occupied a similar 
position behind Madame Pushkin. 

The interview between mother and son would have 
been sad enough had they been allowed to be by them- 
selves, but it was agonizing under the circumstances 
just narrated. They could only exchange a few com- 
monplaces, and even these were almost incoherent, as 
the faces of both were bathed in tears, and the woman 
was barely able to stand on account of her grief. When 
they met, they were told that they would be allowed no 
longer than five minutes together, but even this time 
was more than either cared to endure with the heavy 
door between them and the spies looking and listening 
over their shoulders. When the limit had expired, the 
mother was led away by her custodian, and as she walked 
along the corridor, her despair was manifested in loud 
cries that reached her son in his cell and pierced him to 
the heart. With a refinement of cruelty that would 
have disgraced the lowest savages, the guards required 
her to stop for two or three minutes a few yards from 
his door in order that his sufferings might be prolonged. 

‘‘ Oh ! my dear mother,” he wrote in a letter which 
he tried to send to her by one of the guards, “ when 
your shrieks and lamentations reached me as they rang 
through the prison, it seemed as though my heart would 
break. And afterwards, day and night and night and 
day, they rang through my ears, and I could never 


124 : 


THE SIBERIAN EXILES. 


drive them out. No matter what I tried to think of, the 
picture of your face, pale and tear-covered, rose before 
me and haunted me whether I slept or waked ; no 
matter what I heard or said your sobs and cries filled 
my ears and drove out every other sound.” 

A few days later the guard came again to Ivan’s cell 
and announced a visitor. 

“ Who is it ?” the youth asked. 

“ I am not allowed to tell you,” was the reply, ^‘talk- 
ing is forbidden.” 

If it is my mother or sister,” said Ivan firmly, “ and 
the interview is to be like the last one, I positively 
refuse to see her. Say so to the smotretal.” 

The man went away and soon re-appeared accom- 
panied by the smotretal. The latter assumed a most 
friendly manner and explained that the former inter- 
view was in accordance with the rules and he realized 
how unsatisfactory it was. The one which he was now 
to have would be with his sister, and in the reception- 
room of the prison. They would be allowed to talk 
freely for ten minutes and the young man must give his 
word of honor that no contraband articles would be 
given by either of them to the other. 

Ivan gave the required promise without hesitation. 
There was no reason why he should do otherwise, for 
he had nothing contraband to give, as he was deprived 
of everything on entering the prison. He was not an 
adept in concealing articles, as is the case with old offend- 
ers against the law or, what amounts to the same thing, 
those who have frequently incurred the suspicion of the 
police, however unjustly it may have been formed. 

“Very well, then,” said the keeper, “the interview 
will take place in half an hour.” 

Ivan did not understand why the interview could not 


SPIES AND THEIR WORK. 


125 


come off at once, but there were “ good and sufficient 
reasons ” in the minds of his custodians for the delay. 

There were certain arrangements to be made in 
order to secure the best possible results from the meet- 
ing of brother and sister. The .bench they were to 
occupy during their interview was skillfully placed in a 
corner of the room ; the walls on each side of the cor- 
ner were pierced with large holes or windows, which 
were masked by a sort of lattice-work that extended 
around the room and was ostensibly intended for orna- 
mental purposes. Behind these holes, which were some 
eighteen inches square, two spies were stationed, whose 
duty it was to report all the conversation, or, at any rate, 
all that was of consequence to the government. 

“ You must not talk in whispers,” said the smotretal, 
“ nor use any language but Russian. That is one of the 
rules of the government, and it is my duty to inform 
you.” 

He did not wait for a reply from Ivan, but turned sud- 
denly to give directions about something to one of his 
subordinates. Thus it happened that the youth was 
not under a promise expressly given, and consequently 
he did not feel himself under restrictions when he 
entered the reception-room and found himself alone 
with his sister, or as much alone as one can be when an 
armed sentinel is pacing the corrider just outside the 
open door and occasionally looking inside. But the sen- 
tinel did not listen to their conversation, and for all 
practical purposes they were by themselves. 

Ivan and Nadia embraced and kissed, and then they 
sat down with hands clasped in hands to talk over the 
strange and sad events that had separated them, though 
all the time they were so near each other. They spec- 
ulated on the causes that led to their father’s arrest, and 


126 


THE SIBERIAN EXILES. 


afterwards that of the rest of the family and of Mr. 
Hartmann. Ivan told Nadia what he had till then no 
opportunity of saying, that their father had been taken 
from prison, but where he had gone the youth was 
unable to do more than surmise. 

At this information Nadia cried, and moved by her 
sorrow, and its expression, Ivan could only restrain 
himself with greatest difficulty. In a choked voice he 
said : 

‘‘ You must use your discretion in breaking the news to 
mother.” 

“ I’m afraid it would drive her mad,” replied Nadia, 
as soon as she could speak ; ‘‘sometimes she seems to 
have almost lost her reason, and .she spends hours and 
hours lamenting about something that she will not tell 
me about.” 

“ Has she given you any hint that will enable you to 
guess what it is ?” queried Ivan. 

“ No,” answered the girl, “ but it is something that 
distresvses her very much. She has promised to tell me 
some time, but not now.” 

Down to this time the conversation had been in Rus- 
sian, but now Nadia said something in French. Ivan 
reminded her that he had been cautioned that only 
their native language was to be used, and then she 
paused. 

“ But I did not make any promise about it,” he added, 
and then he detailed the circumstances under which 
the suggestion was made to him, 

“ In that case,” she replied, “ we are at liberty to 
talk just as we like, and can use whatever language we 
please.” But as she said this she pressed his hand by 
way of caution, a signal that he did not fully understand 
at the moment, 


SPIES AND TTTETR WORK. 


127 


The girl’s quick perception had told her that 
although they were apparently alone, they were likely 
to be overheard. She thought of this when she 
entered the room, and it occurred again to her when 
Ivan mentioned the prohibition of any other language 
than Russian. 

They continued to talk, sometimes in Russian and 
sometimes in French, until one of the warders came 
to tell them that their time had expired. Then they 
kissed and said “ good-bye ” and were returned to their 
cells. 

When they were out of sight, the two listeners came 
from their place of concealment and compared notes. 
They were not much better informed than before the 
interview, as the only point of possible interest to the 
government was the allusion to the something that 
Madame Pushkin had worried about so much and had 
not yet informed her daughter. 

“ We must devise a way of finding that out,” said 
one to the other. 

“ Yes,” was the reply ; “ let them rest a few days and 
then give them another interview. By that time the 
mother may have told it, and then we can get at the 
whole story of the conspiracy.” 

“ They didn’t fall into the trap of talking in French 
so well as we expected.” 

“ No, I thought when the young fellow was cautioned 
without putting him under a promise, that would be the 
very thing to give him a hint, but somehow he didn’t 
take it.” 

“ We’ll catch them next time, though. We’ll have noth- 
ing said to them about it, so that they will feel entirely 
free about their language ; then we’ll put the sentinel 


128 


THE SIBERIAN EXILES. 

in the doorway, and they’ll talk so that he cannot 
understand their dialogue.” 

The spies had been selected on account of their knowl- 
edge of foreign tongues in addition to their own. It 
should be remarked that the Russians are the best lin- 
guists in the world, or certainly among the best, pos- 
sibly because their own language is so difficult to 
acquire. It is no uncommon thing to find men or 
women who speak French, German and English fluently, 
in addition to Russian, and it has been said that a 
stranger in St. Petersburg may address a well-dressed 
man on the street in French or German, with an even 
chance that he will be understood. Education begins 
at a very early age, and every well-to-do Russian puts 
his children in the hands of a foreign governess or tutor, 
before most English or American children have con- 
quered the alphabet. 

Both the spies understood French perfectly, and felt 
sure that the young people would put them in possess- 
ion of the information they so greatly desired, by con- 
versing in that language. The prison-keeper had played 
his part well in failing to obtain a promise from Ivan, 
and they were naturally mortified at their failure. 

“ This will be the way for us to proceed now,” said 
the elder of the two. “ Three days from now we will 
notify the women that they are to be separated the next 
day at noon, and put into cells by themselves. This 
will excite them greatly, and especially the mother, who 
will understand that it may be a long while before she 
can see her child again. During the night, or the 
next morning before they are separated, she will 
tell everything that is on her mind ; then leave the girl 
to herself for a day or two, and after that let her have 
an interview with her brother. She will surely tell all 


ON THE WAY TO THE MINES— ,Vee Page 14‘J. 



# 



p * 


•' X.;. 

' ' * */ 


^.'■^ *'^11 
■' if ‘ /■ • ‘ 

^ •» ■’•' 

■ i-‘- 


tv' ■' 


i.: . - 


‘,r' 




•’c' 


V? .. 

*• 


",V? 

v’ ; •< •■ ^ 


* - 

>, * ■ 




•* 

•V . 


. A » r' 


- » '' 
% . 


•v’ • 


•r. . ' ' 


/ - 


^ 4 «^^ •»■ 

, V f '• 


t 


f ’ •>» f 

* i. ' ' 






t ^ 
« 


^ ■ 


r' • ■■► ^ 

*; ■ 


• \-i' ■". ''• ' 

' ’ '*• , ; . • • V 4 .» •• * ' . . #f r- 

-• *v-’ * - ’^iW^ Vf^. ' 

, '■ ■ ' ^ ■" //V. 

r. » H2r#'^*^1C • . ^ • .r' I . 


4 

<0 


V 


« I 


N > 

r 

I 

' 1 ■ 



') '. 


»•* 


- I- - , 

< 

*■ - I 

’■4 


S» 

4 

0 






> ; 
f • 

c 


- »' 


4 / 


i 



•yL *' ■ -'' 5 * . ' ’Va ■' *■ '•*^' 

ivtj, ■■ \v '■' 

■vir i . <: '• ' :* - •’' 

iv 


1 • 


-• ."if - 


■' - •ii A*- '’ ■«ri;>' -'T' 



k - 



;•/ %»-- ^ * \ ^ 1. ■ - ^•-^ -' ■ 

^ -. ,. f . :\ ■' ,:^ .■. ^ - 

/ 5 - *j •, :,^':r' ■ ' '•■ 'X • . ' '■* " ^:V ^^■^ 

j. H V lit. '' ife ' - % 



-aailiwij/ ^ 

■■ , ;-' . ”•■■ ' -, •• :i:,h 



SPIES AND THEIR WORK. 


129 


she has found out from the old woman, and we’ll have 
the facts to go on.” 

“ I can suggest something better than that,” was the 
reply. 

“ What is your idea ?” 

“ Why, let the woman, the old one, have a talk with the 
lawyer in this very corner. You know a lawyer always 
wants to have all the facts bearing on a case, and that’s 
the very first thing he’ll say to her. She’ll be more 
likely to give him the whole story than she will to tell 
it to her daughter ; she will have more confidence in his 
discretion than in that of her child, much as she loves 
her.” 

“ Not a bad scheme,” said the other. “ I’ll talk with 
the governor about it, and find out what he thinks, or 
what he says he thinks. Will meet you at the Chancel- 
lerie to-morrow morning.” 

The spies then separated, and at their meeting on the 
next day their plans for obtaining information were dis- 
cussed in all their bearings, and arrangements made for 
carrying them out. 

Atrocious and cold-blooded as these performances 
may seem to the reader, they are mildness itself com- 
pared with some of the schemes in vogue among the 
Russian police. We have already seen how forged con- 
fessions are used for deceiving prisoners into telling 
what they are suspected of knowing, and how govern- 
ment officials make pretences of personal and unofficial 
friendship in order to draw victims into traps. Over- 
[ hearing conversations is a common form of obtaining 
information, and is not always confined to Russia. The 
annals of the police in all countries contain instances of 
convictions obtained in this way, but it is safe to say 
that none of them are quite as heartless as those in the 


130 


THE SIBERIAN EXILES. 


dominions of the Czar. In playing upon the fears of 
parents for their children, or those of children for their 
parents, and taking advantage of the most agonizing 
circumstances, the Russian police surpass all others. 

While the new villainy of the spies upon the Pushkin 
family is under consideration, we will return to the for- 
warding prison, where we left the party preparing for 
the dreary march into the land of exile. 

In the afternoon of the third day after their arrival, it 
became known that on the following morning a march- 
ing convoy would be sent away. 

There were some preparations to be made, but not 
many ; where one has very little of this world’s goods 
in his possession, he can start on a forced journey at 
short notice. Each man overhauled the linen bag that 
contained his change of clothing, took out what he most 
needed, and laid away what he could spare. Then the 
bag was closed ready for delivery into the hands of the 
drivers of the baggage telyegas, and the prisoner was 
ready for what sleep he could snatch during the night 
in the close atmosphere of the kamera he occupied along 
with his companions in misfortune. 

While Pushkin was contemplating his scanty belong- 
ings, Dubayeff came carelessly to his side, and asked ; 

“ Do you want to communicate with your friends at 
home ?” 

“ Do I want to ? Heaven knows I do, though it is sad 
news, indeed, that I can give them.” 

“ Well, there’s a chance to do so before we go on the 
road.” 

“ How ?” 

“ From this point we do not have the same guards that 
we have had thus far. We are turned over to a new 
escort, and one of the men that was with us will take any 


SPIES AND THEIR WORK. 


131 


letters we have, surreptitiously of course, and deposit 
them in the post-office after he gets back to Perm. He 
will do so for half a ruble for each letter.” 

Pushkin eagerly embraced the opportunity, and hav- 
ing obtained a sheet of paper and an envelope, he wrote 
in pencil, as pen and ink were not procurable, a short 
letter, in which he gave a brief account of what had hap- 
pened to him up to that time. He did not address 
it to any member of his family, but to Mr. Kosavitch, at 
Tambov, requesting that gentleman to inform the 
family as soon as he could. Little did he dream of the 
actual state of affairs ! 

Pushkin had changed his large bank-note into 
smaller ones by paying a liberal commission to one of 
his keepers who managed the business. He consulted 
Dubayeff before doing so, and the latter said : 

“ It won’t be safe to let the note go out of your hands 
before you have the smaller notes for it. The amount 
is too large to be otherwise than a temptation to the 
man, and very likely you would never see him or your 
money again.” 

“ But wouldn’t he be in danger of arrest for desert- 
ing his post if he staid away from duty ?” 

“ He could easily manage that,” was the reply. He 
would go to the next man above him and say he wanted 
sick leave for a few days. He could afford to pay a 
good bribe, and would get the leave until the convoy 
was sent away. His superior would ask no questions, 
but his understanding of the case would be quite cor- 
rect, that the subordinate had reasons of his own for 
not wishing to be seen about the prison until the depart- 
ure of the next convoy.” 

“ How shall I manage it?” Pushkin asked. 

“ Get one of the warders to bring a money-changer to 


132 


THE SIBERIAN EXILES. 


you under pretense of wishing to see a friend, or any 
other ruse that will bring him in. There will be no 
great difficulty about it, as the money-changer will 
make it for the interest of everybody to admit him. I 
saw one here this very day transacting business in a 
corner with one of the prisoners.” 

Pushkin acted upon Dubayeff’s advice, and found no 
difficulties in the way, other than the necessity of pay- 
ing a high commission as already stated. The note he 
had was for five hundred rubles, and he changed it to 
four notes of one hundred each, and fifty rubles in small 
notes. The remaining fifty went in the commission which 
was retained by the changer. 

The transaction was conducted so secretly that none 
but the two parties to it could know the amount involved 
unless the information were volunteered. It was the 
interest of Pushkin that nobody should be aware that 
he had such an amount in his possession, he would have 
been liable to extortion by his immediate keepers, and 
as for the higher officials, they would have forbidden 
him to have it on the ground that it might be used for 
bribing his guards to connive at his escape. Then, too, 
there was further danger from the brodyags and other 
common criminals in the convo)^, to whom robbery is an 
art they would practice upon a fellow-prisoner as readily 
as on any one else. 

“ The money-changer isn’t likely/’ said Dubayeff, “ to 
own up to having changed anything larger than a 
twenty-five ruble note, or possibly one for fifty. The 
higher the profits he acknowledges, the greater must be 
his payments to the prison-keepers, and you can rely 
upon his lying to the utmost stretch of his conscience, 
and I very much doubt if he is troubled with any con- 
science at all” 


SPIES AND THEIR WORK. 


133 


Pushkin concealed his money where it could not be 
found except on the most careful search, and no one 
but Dubayeff knew how much he carried. Even the 
latter was not intrusted with the secret of its conceal- 
ment, further than that he knew of a fifty ruble note 
sewn into a seam of Pushkin’s grey overcoat. 

Prisoners may carry small amounts of money, not to 
exceed three or four rubles, but all above the latter 
figure must be deposited with the chief of the escort or 
the smotretal of the prison, from whom it may be drawn 
upon from time to time for the purchase of food or 
other comforts. Where the holders of the money are 
honest, and administer their trusts fairly, there is no 
reasonable ground for complaint, but honest adminis- 
tration is the exception, rather than the rule, in all deal- 
ings with prisoners in Russia. 



CHAPTER XIII. 

SETTING OUT ON THE MARCH. 

Early in the morning of the day fixed for the starting 
of the convoy, the prisoners were supplied with their 
breakfast of soup, karsha and black bread. Such as 
had money to pay with were provided with tea by one 
of the warders ; those without money had no tea at all, 
or depended upon the generosity of more fortunate 
companions, but few prisoners in Siberia can be gener- 
ous without great hardship to themselves. The soup 
was thin and poor, the karsha was badly cooked, and 
the bread such that no decent baker would think of 
offering to his customers. But the exiles had no choice 
other than to eat what was given to them or go hungry. 

In groups of ten or twenty the prisoners were called 
from the kameras into the yard, but before stepping 
into the open air they were carefully examined to see 
that their leg-fetters had not been tampered with and 
their heads were properly shaven. The rule of shaving 
one side of a convict’s head is carefully kept, as it fur- 
nishes a means of indentification in case of his escape ; 
the shaving is repeated from time to time in the for- 
warding prisons, and the hair is not allowed to get a 
[i34j 


SLITTING OliT ON TIlE MARCH. 


135 


growth of more than two or three weeks between the 
attentions of the barber. 

Formerly the nostrils of all hard labor and life sen- 
tence exiles were slit to mark them indelibly, but this 
practice was abandoned early in the present century. 
Few, if any, exiles thus disfigured are now living. 

Those who are simply banished to Siberia for a short 
term of years, without any sentence of hard labor, 
escape the head-shaving, and are not required to wear 
fetters. It is considered that the brevity of their terms, 
and the lightness of their punishment, will keep them 
from running the risk of being placed in the hard -labor 
class in case of attempting to escape and being re- 
captured. 

Dubayeff and Pushkin were among those sentenced 
to hard labor, and therefore bore the marks of degrada- 
tion in the shape of chains and shaven heads. To the 
casual observer there was no difference between their 
appearance and that of the criminal convicts in the 
convoy, and it was evidently the intent of their masters 
that there should be none. If a political prisoner 
escapes from custody, the peasants who encounter him 
have no means of knowing to what class he belongs ; 
all they know is that his dress and the condition ot his 
head indicate that he is a convict and under sentence to 
hard labor. If they capture him, they obtain the reward 
that the government offers for the apprehension of run- 
aways from the compulsory service of the Czar. 

When the roll was called, all were obliged to answer 
to their names. Among those included in the convoy, 
was a young man who protested that he had been 
arrested and was being sent to Siberia by mistake. 
His name was Andrew Narishkine, and he claimed that 
the man who should be in his place was Alexander 


136 


THP: SIBERIAN EXILES. 


Narishkine ; Andrew was no relative of his, not even an 
acquaintance, though he had heard about him from 
some one who knew him and was sure that a mistake 
had been made. 

“ Alexander Narishkine,” shouted the convoy officer. 

There was no response, and again the name was 
called. 

“ This is Narishkine,” said one of the warders, point- 
ing to the young man in question. 

“ Why don’t you answer to your name ?” said the 
officer, gruffly. “ I called it twice ; are you deaf ?” 

“ I’m not deaf,” was the reply. “ I am not Alexander 
Narishkine, and won’t answer to his name. “ I’ve been 
arrested and sent here by mistake.” 

“ Is your name Narishkine ?” 

“ Yes, it is Narishkine, but it isn’t Alexander.” 

“ Well, then, what is it ?” 

“ Andrew Narishkine.” 

The officer then took his pencil, erased Alexander 
and wrote Andrew in its place. “Your name is all 
right now,” said he, “and we won’t have any more 
refusals after this. One Narishkine in Siberia is as good 
as another.” 

The young man protested, but to no purpose, as his 
words were not listened to by the officer, who went on 
with the roll-call. In all there were some two hundred 
and fifty persons in the convoy, and sixty or more of 
them were in chains. Nearly one-third of the whole 
number were not prisoners at all, but the wives and 
children of exiles, belonging either to this convoy or to 
one that had gone before. They were subject to the 
prison regulations in every way, the only difference in 
their cases being that they might leave the custody of 
the government at any of the forwarding stations and 


SETTING OUT ON THE MAKCH. 


137 


settle down to take care of themselves. On the road 
no distinction was made between them and the rest of 
the convoy. 

As each name was called, and the owner came for- 
ward, his linen bag was taken from him and examined 
by two soldiers to make sure that it contained nothing 
contraband. If found all right, it was returned to him, 
and he was told to go on. He went on until he was 
stopped at the other end of the yard, where his name 
was checked off on another list and he was ordered to 
remain in a group that was standing there. Then he 
placed his bag on the ground and waited. 

Twenty or thirty names had been called off and each 
one had been answered before that of Carl Pushkin was 
reached. 

As he stepped forward with his bag, Carl said to the 
officer : 

“ Can I now be told why I have been brought to 
Siberia ?” 

“ How the d— 1 do I know ?” was the reply. “ That’s 
no business of mine. You wouldn’t be here if you 
hadn’t been sent.” Then turning to the soldier who 
was examining the bag, he asked if it was all right. 

“ All right,” the soldier answered. 

“ Stoopai (Go on) !” the officer commanded, giving an 
inclination of his head in the direction that the man 
should go. Then he called the next name on the list, 
and there was nothing for the unhappy Pushkin to do 
but obey orders. With downcast head he joined the 
group, unmindful of what was occurring around him. 
He had hoped that he might be heard, and that an 
explanation could be obtained of the cause of his 
exile. 

Had he been permitted to look at the list, he would 


138 


THE SIBERIAN EXILES. 


have seen that the offence for which a man is exiled is 
not mentioned thereon. The convoy officer knew 
nothing about the right or wrong of the matter, neither 
did he care, any more than in the case of Andrew 
Narishkine eviled in place of Alexander. 

Pushkin was soon joined by Dubayeff, and both sat 
down on the ground to await the order to match. See- 
ing the eyes of Pushkin filled with tears, the other 
exclaimed : 

“ Courage, my friend ! Courage ! Fortune may yet 
do something good for you, and that when you least 
expect it. Now that your letter has gone to your 
friends, they will know where you are, and you will soon 
hear from them.” 

Dubayeff’s promises were, as he well knew, more 
hopeful than the circumstances warranted, but he felt 
justified in using a little kindly deception to his 
companion in misfortune. They had become much 
attached during the time they had been together, and 
each had served to smooth the hardships of the journey 
for the other. 

His words had a good effect, and when Pushkin 
looked up again, it was with a less despairing look upon 
his face. The examination and passing of each pris- 
oner took from one to three minutes, and although 
three convoy officers were busy at the work, three or 
four hours were consumed in getting the convoy in 
readiness. 

When all was ready the order “ Stroisa (Form 
Ranks) !” was given, and the gate of the prison-yard 
was opened. By the side of the gate stood an officer, 
who gave each prisoner ten copecks (five cents) in 
copper coin, which was to supply him with food for 
the two days of the first stage of the march. This he 


SETTING OUT ON THE MARCH. 


139 


would buy of peasants along the road, who make 
their livelihood by supplying the exiles. Of course, the 
food thus supplied is of the coarsest kind, and the most 
that can be said in its favor is that it supports life. 

Outside the gate were several telyegas, into which 
the linen bags belonging to the prisoners were piled. 
Then there were telyegas intended for the infirm, 
or for those who became footsore on the road. One old 
woman had been placed in a telyega, and a young 
woman was pleading with an officer to allow her mother 
to ride instead of walk. 

“ Her knee is very bad,” said the woman, “ and she 
cannot take a step without limping.” 

“ Then why hasn’t she a certificate from the doctor ?” 

“ The doctor said he would give her one, but he didn’t. 
When I spoke to him about it the second time he said 
he would attend to it immediately, but he hasn’t done 
so.” 

“ Then your mother is a pretender and isn’t lame at 
all. She must walk.” 

The woman began to cry as the officer turned away. 
Then she asked him to send for the doctor and ascer- 
tain whether her statement was true. Fortunately 
the doctor happened along at this moment and gave 
the opportunity for the appeal to be made then and 
there. 

Bless me !” he exclaimed. “ Certainly, this woman is 
right ; 1 did promise the certificate, but had so much 
to do that I forgot it.” 

Then he gave the certificate, filling it out in pencil 
where he stood. The lame woman was helped into the 
telyega, and her daughter took her own place in the 
ranks. 

“ The doctor is a decent sort of fellow,” whispered 


uo 


THE SIBERIAN EXILES. 


Dabayeff to Pushkin, “ and he tells the truth when 
he said he had so much to do that he forgot the certifi- 
cate he had promised to give. All the officers are over- 
worked, and the doctors the worst of all. When we 
get to Tomsk, you’ll see a fearful state of affairs. The 
prisons and hospitals are terribly crowded, and the 
provisions for the care of the sick are not a quarter of 
what are required. Hundreds die every year of neglect 
and exposure in the prisons of Tomsk.” 

And how is it further on ?” Pushkin asked. . 

It is bad everywhere,” was the reply. “ Over and 
over again the case has been represented to the author- 
ities at St. Petersburg, but they do nothing to remedy 
the evil.” 

The telyegas were soon filled with the sick and 
infirm, and it was evident that there was a considerable 
number who were unable to walk. The scanty food, 
the foul air of the prisons, and the general hardships 
they were forced to undergo, were responsible for this 
condition of many of the prisoners. It seems strange 
that when the government goes to the expense of send- 
ing men and women to people a thinly inhabited 
country like Siberia, it does not take better care of 
them, not from motives of humanity, but out of pure 
selfishness. A robust colonist is of ten times more 
value in a new country, than one enfeebled by disease 
or privations. 

The telyegas were common country wagons, entirely 
open, resting on axles, without springs, and having a 
little hay or grass inside, on which the occupants were 
to sit. Four persons were assigned to a telyega ; the 
vehicle was drawn by a single horse, and there was a 
driver and a soldier on the seat in front. 

Pushkin was somewhat surprised to see Nemo 


SETTING OIJT ON THE MARCH. 


141 


provided with a certificate from the doctor and assigned 
to a place in a telyega. He mentioned this to Dubayeff, 
who gave a glance at the fellow, and then said : 

“ He’s a veteran at deception, and for a ruble offered 
to show me how to get a certificate and be allowed to 
ride. But I prefer the walking to the horrible jolting 
of the telyega, and declined his offer. 

“ How do you suppose he managed it 

“ He scratched his leg with a splinter of wood day 
before yesterday,and then applied tobacco to the wound. 
This caused it to swell and assume an appearance 
sufficient to deceive a doctor on a hasty examination. 
The doctor is too busy to give more than a glance at 
the swelling, and so the brodyag was put on the list of 
those unable to walk. Some of these scoundrels are 
able to assume the appearance of wserious illness, and 
sometimes it takes a shrewd surgeon to detect them.” 

The linen bags of the marching convicts were con- 
signed to the telyegas that followed the ones containing 
the sick and infirm, and when all was ready, the order to 
march was given. 

Four mounted Cossacks led the column. Then came 
the marching men and women and then the telyegas, 
and behind the last of the rumbling wagons was another 
guard of four Cossacks on horseback. 

At each side of the column, scattered at intervals of 
twenty or thirty feet were soldiers on foot, each of them 
carrying his rifle ready loaded and with fixed bayonet. 
Their duty was to keep the column closed, and in case 
of an attempt of a prisoner to run away, they had orders 
to shoot, and to kill, if possible. 

At the extreme rear of the column was the nachalnik, 
or commander of the convoy ; he rode in a tarantassand 
had his pistols ready for use, and on the box at the 


THE SIBERIAN EXILES. 


U2 

driver’s side was a soldier with loaded rifle and fixed 
bayonet. 

With a confused clanking of chains, and at a pace of 
about two miles an hour, the column with its head to the 
eastward soon left the gloomy prison out of sight. The 
bells on a church chimed one of the prayers of the Rus- 
sian service, and how like mockery it seemed to Pushkin 
as side by side with his friend he struggled along the 
dusty road, “ Peace be with you !” the bells said ; 
“ Despair be with you !” was the sound as it reached the 
exile’s ears. 

As the sound of the bell was lost in the distance, the 
column reached a “ chasovnaya ” or shrine, which stood 
near the road, and displayed a wooden representation of 
the Crucifixion, sheltered by a roof above it. Men and 
women crossed themselves in adoration, the men remov- 
ing their caps and bowing devoutly, but still keeping up 
their march along the road. Pushkin was a faithful ad- 
herent of the church, and was therefore one of the 
worhippers at the shrine ; Dubayeff removed his cap, 
but did not make the sign of the cross, and it was evi- 
dent that he was not altogether sound in the tenets of 
the orthodox faith. 

“ Did you observe,’’ said he to Pushkin, after they had 
passed the shrine, “ that every robber, murderer or 
other criminal crossed himself devoutly ?” 

“ No, I did not,” was the reply. “ But I know that the 
worst men in my community are the most earnest in 
observing the rules of the church.” 

“Probably they think it may help to save them,” said 
Dubayeff. “ Here, in Siberia, the worst criminals are 
the best religionists, at least outwardly, I have known 
a highway robber to waylay and kill a traveller for the 
sake of plunder and no other motive. The robber had 


SETTING OUT ON THE MAECH. 


143 


eaten nothing for nearly two days and was very hungry 
as you may believe. When he rifled the pockets of his 
victim, he found a cake and started to eat it, but threw 
it away instantly, as though it were poison, when he 
found it contained meat. It was the time of the fast 
when all good Christians refused to touch flesh ; he was 
a good Christian and kept the fast faithfully, though he 
had no scruples at committing murder.” 

“ I’ve no doubt of it,” replied Pushkin, “ and you can 
find many people of this sort in all parts of the empire. 
They say their prayers and make the sign of the cross 
and then think they can do as they please. When the 
Czar goes to church and observes all its ceremonies I 
wonder if he thinks of — ” 

A rifle shot rang out from the side of the column im- 
mediately behind them, and was followed by another 
and another. Men shouted and women screamed, and 
the order : “ Stoy (Halt),” brought the marching line 

to a standstill. 



CHAPTER XIV. 

UNSUCCESSFUL ATTEMPT TO ESCAPE. 

The cause of the firing was quickly known. Two 
prisoners, condemned to long terms of imprisonment 
with hard labor, had attempted to escape, by breaking 
suddenly from their guards while passing near a piece 
of forest. Pushkin had thought of trying the same 
plan, but was deterred from it by Dubayeff, to whom 
he proposed the attempt. 

“ Don’t try it,” said the other. The chances are 
very much against success, too much for anybody who 
hasn’t altogether abandoned hope. You are hampered 
by your chains, which will prevent your running fast, 
you know nothing of the country, the soldiers are quick 
with their weapons, and even if 3"ou manage to dodge 
the firing of the convoy guards, you will be pursued by 
the men on horseback. You have hundreds of miles 
between 5^ou and the boundary of Europe, and all that 
distance you will be hunted like a wild beast. Do you 
know what the officers sometimes say to recaptured 
runaways ?” 

“ No,” was the reply, “ what is it 
LH 4 J 


UNSUCCESSFUL ATTEMPT TO ESCAPE. l-io 

“ They have a saying in these words ; ‘ The Czar’s 
cow-pasture is large, but you cannot get out of it ; we 
find you in the end if you are alive.’ ” 

Thus advised, Pushkin resigned himself to his fate, 
and gave up all thought of escape by breaking from 
the line of march. 

The prisoners who had tried to get away were long- 
term politicals, and this was their first trip to Siberia. 
One was killed by a bullet from one of the rifles, and 
the other severely wounded. The wounded and dead 
were thrown into one of the telegas, which carried the 
baggage of the prisoners, and at the noon-day halt the 
corpse was buried a little way off from the road. The 
nachalnik made a formal certification of the occurrence, 
and obtained the signatures of several of the exiles as 
witnesses, in addition to the signatures of such of his 
men as could write their names. 

Why does he need so many witnesses ?” Pushkin 
asked. 

“ Because,” answered Dubayeff, “ he is responsible for 
every man, woman and child delivered to him at start- 
ing ; he must deliver them at the end of his route, at 
the next forwarding station, and if any are missing from 
the roll, he is obliged to make full explanation. If this 
had occurred within a day’s march of the end of his 
route, he would have carried the corpse along as evi- 
dence that he had the complete number of the people 
he started with. He will keep the wounded man as long 
as there is any life in his body, no matter if a doctor 
should tell him that the prisoner’s life could be saved 
by leaving him at the first village, but would certainly 
be lost by carr3fing him further.” 

“ When I first went to Siberia,” Dubayeff continued, 
“ a woman fell overboard from a ferryboat while we 


146 


THE SIBERIAN EXILES. 


were crossing a river. The nachalnik and his men put 
themselves in considerable peril to save her, not that 
they cared the value of a straw for her life, but because 
of the trouble they would be in if she were missing from 
the roll-call at the next station.” 

“ Did they save her ?” 

“ Yes, and when she was brought on board all drip- 
ping wet and hardly able to stand, the nachalnik 
ordered her to be bound hand and foot so that the 
incident might not occur again in her case. Her fall 
overboard was accidental, but the officer would not 
believe that she had not tried to commit suicide by 
drowning. ‘ She has a grudge against me,’ he said, 
‘ and wants to drown herself to have me disgraced. I 
know her tricks now, and will see that she doesn’t play 
them again.’ 

“ A good number of exiles do try to drown them- 
selves, though,” he added, “ and if they were not very 
carefully watched, there would be many deaths in the 
rivers. Death is to them preferable to long exile, with 
all its privations and suffering, and the wonder is not 
that there are so many suicides, but so few. It is an 
even chance that the poor fellows who tried to escape 
to-day did so because they wanted to be shot down and 
make an end of their troubles. Probably the wounded 
man is now envying the dead one, and wishing that the 
rifle had made thorough work.” 

Inquiry among those who knew the men, confirmed 
Dubayeff ’s belief. The runways had been very despond- 
ent at the thought that they were bound for the dreaded 
mines beyond Lake Baikal ; they realized that as they 
penetrated more and more into Siberia, their chances of 
escape were diminished, and so they determined to risk 


UNSUCCESSFUL ATTEMPT TO ESCAPE. 


147 


everything and make a run for liberty or death. The 
result of their attempt is here described. 

‘‘ It is possible,” said Dubayeff, before the subject of 
suicide was dropped, “ that there are some in this very 
convoy who deliberately did something to cause their 
transfer from the dreaded prison of Petropavlovsk in 
St. Petersburg, to the land of exile. 

“ I know that suicides, or attempts at them, are quite 
frequent in the fortress ; death is preferable to life in 
those gloomy bastions ; and I have known several 
instances where prisoners tried to take their lives ; after 
being thwarted through the vigilance of their keepers, 
they watched their chance to strike an officer, in order 
that they might be shot or sent to Siberia for life. 
Anything, anything, to get out of that terrestrial Hell.” 

Many instances of this kind are known to have 
occurred. As an illustration may be mentioned the 
case of Miiishkin, a noted revolutionist. He tried to 
starve himself to death, and the surgeon of the fortress 
was sent to administer food to him by force. Muishkin 
deliberately struck and otherwise insulted him, and was 
shot accordingly. But for may months his friends 
knew nothing of his fate, and only learned the facts 
from other prisoners. 

“ More than once I was on the point of striking one 
of the officers. I made up my mind to do so, but every 
time I reached the determination, I had no opportunity 
until my anger cooled down, and I postponed the deed. 
But if I had been kept a week longer in the fortress 
than I was, I’m sure I should have been nerved to the 
attempt, as I was well on the road to complete despair. 

“ It happened that the very day I had made up my 
mind fully to do the worst, was the day for the depart- 
ure of a convoy for Siberia. The government wanted a 


148 


THE SIBERIAN EXILES. 


large number* of the cells emptied to make room for 
persons about to be arrested, just as they sometimes 
dig a grave for a man before he is shot or hanged. In 
the middle of the night I was called by one of the 
guards, and ordered to follow him. He took me through 
a long corridor to where the blacksmith was fastening 
leg-fetters on another prisoner ; he was an intimate 
friend of mine, but we did not pretend to recognize 
each other, lest by so doing we might betray something 
that the prison authorities wished to know. 

“After I was fettered, I was escorted to the office of 
the prison, where a surgeon examined me critically, and 
told an officer, who proved to be the nachalnik of the 
convoy, that I was satisfactory. The reason of this was 
that the prisoners had been so badly treated in the way 
of food, light, air, exercise, medical attendance, and 
other matters which make the difference between health 
and disease, that not one-third of them were able to 
travel to Siberia, or even to the frontier. Out of thirty 
persons occupying one group of cells in a casemate, 
seven were well along in the first stages of consumption, 
and eleven others were not able to stand, or if they 
could possibly support themselves on their feet for a 
moment, they could not go across their cells without 
falling. In this state of affairs the convoy officer 
refused to take any who were ^t able to undertake the 
journey to Siberia, and very properly, too.” 

Pushkin agreed with him, and without suspecting the 
cause, he found the roadway through Siberia w^earing 
a brighter aspect as he viewed it through the gloom of 
the fortress of Petropavlovsk that rose before his 
imagination. 

“ A convict suit was given me, and I was then taken 
to a waiting-room in the lower part of the prison, wffiere 


UNSUCCESSFUL ATTEMPT TO ESCAPE. 


149 


I found a dozen or more convicts, like myself, sitting 
around a table, on which a samovar (tea-urn) was hiss- 
ing. Half of them were my acquaintances and friends, 
but we gave no sign of recognition for the reasons I 
have already told you. We had been separated for 
years, all the time in the walls of one and the same 
prison, and I found there two whom I supposed had long 
since been dead, and who had likewise thought me 
dead, too. Can you imagine anything more terrible 
than such a meeting ? Not only were friends there, but 
husbands and wives, and a pair of affianced lovers, sit- 
ting almost side by side for the first time in years, and 
yet not daring to speak ! 

“ But when we reached the railroad station, to which 
we were taken in locked vans and accompanied by 
guards, we were shut into the convict cars and left to 
ourselves. How our tongues were loosened then, and how 
we did talk, talk, talk, till half of the party were in hys- 
terics. How strange and hollow was the sound of our 
own voices, not to speak of the strangeness of the voices 
which had been silent to us, and with them all other 
voices, for such a long, dreary time ! 

“ Some of us were so broken down with the excitement 
of the change and the meeting with old friends, that 
when we reached Moscow we had to be lifted from the 
convict-cars and carried toiy:he hospital ; by the advice 
of the medical attendant the nachalnik of the convoy 
postponed the continuation of our journey for several 
days, to give us chance to recuperate.” 

Suddenly there was a cry of Freeval ! Preevair 
from the men at the head of the column, which was 
held by brodyags who had been over the road before 
and knew it more or less thoroughly. Dubayeff told 
Pushkin that some of these fellows had been there a 


150 


THE SIBERIAN EXILES. 


dozen times or even more ; they were in the habit of 
saying that they spent their time visiting their parents. 

“ The ostrog (prison) is my father and the taiga (for- 
est) is my mother,” says the experienced brodyag. I 
honor both my parents, and when not with the one I am 
with the other.” 

The cry we have mentioned meant that the place had 
been reached for the noon-day halt. Pushkin looked 
up and saw that they were near a village ; several girls 
and old women were waiting in the open ground close 
to it with provisions, which they expected to sell to the 
prisoners. When the column had come up to the group 
the order Stoy T was given, and in less than twenty 
seconds every man and woman of the convoy was sit- 
ting or lying on the ground, all except the soldiers, who 
stood ready to interfere with any attempt at escape. 

The peasants had bread, milk, pirogs (pies of meat 
or fish), hard-boiled eggs, and other edible things for 
sale. Dubayeff and Pushkin had formed a pool ” with 
two other prisoners, and the four united their funds for 
the common good. They drew lots to see who should 
be their starosta, or purveyor for the day, and the 
choice fell on Dubayeff. He began bargaining for 
their supply of food soon after the column halted. 

Pushkin was interested in observing the closeness 
with which his friend conducted the business, and he 
realized that it was necessary to make every copeck of 
their possessions go as far as possible. It is fair to say 
that it was only exceptionally the case that the peas- 
ants sought to take advantage of the necessities of the 
prisoners, and drive a hard bargain with hungry men. 

“ It’s a time of plenty now,” said Dubayeff, “ and 
provisions are cheap. When I went through here 
before there had been a very bad season, the drought 


UNSUCCESSFUL ATTEMPT TO ESCAPE. 


151 


having destroyed the greater part of the crops, and 
everything was dear. The government allowance of 
five copecks a day was not enough to support a man ; 
it would buy a two-pound loaf of rye bread and that 
was all. No tea, no meat or fish, nothing but bread, 
and not enough of that.” 

“ How did you manage to live ?” Pushkin asked. 

“ Live ! we starved, we did not really live. Many 
became so weak that they fell by the wayside and were 
packed into the telyegas which were already filled. 
When we reached the forwarding stations, they were 
left behind in the hospitals, and not more than half of 
them ever recovered.” 

“ Did the government know of the state of affairs ?” 

“ Know of it ? of course it was known. Our officers 
could do nothing for us, as they could not increase the 
allowance without orders from headquarters ; the con- 
voy officers all through the country sent letter after 
letter, made complaint after complaint, and recommenda- 
tion after recommendation, but nothing was done. The 
money allowance was not increased, and so the prisoners 
were forced to suffer. The peasants were as kind as 
their means allowed them to be, but no one could expect 
them to sell food to us at an actual loss to themselves. 

^‘One of the convoy officers tried in vain to have the 
prisoners properly fed, and when his protests went un- 
heeded, he resigned his commission, and left the service. 
And he was by no means the first officer to give up his 
position because he could never cause the abolition of 
abuses which came under his personal observation. 

“ One naturally supposes that the government would 
charge itself with the feeding of the exiles on the road, 
but it does nothing of the kind. It simply gives the 
prisoners the money allowance mentioned, and leaves 


152 


THE SIBERIAN EXILES. 


them to buy of the peasants or of the soldiers as best 
they can. There is no particular objection to the plan, 
except in times of scarcity. Ordinarily, provisions are 
abundant and prices low enough to enable a man to live 
upon the allowance, but he can barely live by careful 
economy. The allowance ought to be larger at all times, 
and especiaily so when there have been failures of crops, 
or other misfortunes that make food dear.” 

After a sufficient halt for rest and dinner, the march 
was resumed. It was unbroken by any incident of 
importance ; no one tried to escape during this march, 
and the occurrence of the forenoon had caused an appear- 
ance of gloom through the whole column, with the excep- 
tion of the brodyags, whom nothing seemed to affect. 

These fellows laughed and joked with each other 
and boasted of their exploits in eluding their officers at 
the mines or in making their escapes. Possibly they 
did not confine themselves to the lines of exact truth, 
but they certainly were not restrained in the least by 
the presence of their guards. 

“ You’re a nice fellow,” said one brodyag to another, 
“ to run away from your good home in the Kara mines 
and go into the taiga (wilderness). There in the mines 
you had masters to look after you and see that you 
were sheltered at night, they gave you these decora- 
tions (leg-fetters) and a diamond-backed coat, and 
when you went to the taiga you lost them all.” 

The overcoats of hard-labor convicts are marked on 
the back with a double diamond, and the nature of this 
distinction is understood by every Siberian, Conse- 
quently, when a prisoner escapes, he must part with his 
overcoat, or in some way remove the mark which 
indicates what he is. He must also rid himself of his leg- 


UNSUCCESSFUL ATTEMPT TO ESCAPE. 


153 


fetters, but this is generally no great trouble to the 
experienced brodyag. 

“ I traded my overcoat for some potato-sacks,” was 
the reply. “ Potato sacks, when you know how to sew 
them together, make splendid coats for a tourist in the 
taiga.” 

“ How did -you trade ?” 

“ I found the sacks in a stable and knew that the 
owner would find the coat more convenient. He didn’t 
object to the exchange.” 

“Of course not, he wasn’t there.” 

“ No, he wasn’t, that’s a fact. But it was his stable 
and he might have been there if he’d wanted to be.” 

“ I did better than that,” said another brodyag. “ I 
traded my overcoat and decorations for a whole 
chemidan (trunk) full of clothes.” 

“ Cut it off the back of a tarantass. I’ll warrant.” 

“ Nierte (No), do you think I would do such a thing ? 
I just climbed on the back of the tarantass when it was 
rolling along the road in the night, and the chemidan 
fell off in five minutes. I fell too and carried the 
chemidan off into the woods to keep it for the owner. 
Of course I had to examine it, to find the owner’s 
name.” 

“ Yes, and you can’t read ; what good would the name 
do when you found it ?” 

“ I didn’t think of that till I had all the things spread 
on the ground. Then it was too late, and I picked out 
all I could carry and left the rest.” 

The brodyags could have been called the life of the 
convoy, as they kept up a continual round of talk, of 
which the foregoing may be considered a sample. The 
politicals and those of the convicts for whom this was 
the first journey to the mines, were silent for the most 


154 


THE SIBERIAN EXILES. 


part, and much less inclined to look upon their life from 
the humorous side. There is no more philosophical 
being in the world than the confirmed brodyag of 
Siberia ; he goes to the mines, escapes, goes again, and 
again, lives and suffers in the forest, is hunted like 
a wild beast, but rarely profits by experience. With 
each arrest he takes everything as it comes and makes 
the best of it ; his whole thoughts are devoted to how 
he will next escape and what he wull do to make his 
way as smooth as possible. 

The brodyag is known as “ Ivan Don’t-remember,” 
for the reason that he forgets or conceals his real name 
in order that his identity can not be traced. When 
asked his name this is all he knows about it ; he has no 
passport other than the wolf’s, and if his appearance 
indicates that he has escaped from the mines, he is sent 
back there for five years. As many as two hundred 
Ivan Don’t-remembers have been found at one time in 
a forwarding prison. 

“ A thousand or more of these vagabonds are arrested 
every year in Western Siberia,” said Dubayeff, while 
talking with Pushkin on this subject. “ They are sent 
back to the mines of Eastern Siberia, 2,000 miles 
towards the rising sun, and perhaps to the very mines 
whence they have escaped. And for every hundred thus 
arrested and returned to hard labor, probably thirty or 
more have died in the forest of cold and starvation.” 

“And how many get back to Europe and escape 
altogether out of Russia.” 

“ Perhaps one in a hundred, not more. It is not easy 
to say exactly, as we never know how many have died 
in the forest or succeeded in getting quite aw^ay.” 

The weather was dry and the road was a cloud of 
dust. So dense was it, that often one end of the 


UNSUCCESSFUL ATTEMPT TO ESCAPE, 


155 


column could not be distinguished from the other, and 
those in the rear, whose lungs were at all weak, suffered 
very much from being compelled to breathe the dust- 
laden atmosphere in which they were constantly envel- 
oped. 

The sun was just setting when, from the head of the 
column, came the cry of Pooloo-dtape T ox Half-vray 
station ! The regular etapes or exile stations are about 
forty miles apart, and as this is too great a distance for a 
convoy to march in a single day, the government has 
erected the pooloo-etapes, which divide the distance into 
sections of twenty miles each. 

Pushkin looked, and saw an inclosure of upright 
posts set into the ground, with the roofs of three build- 
ings visible above the stockade. Dubayetf told him 
that one of these buildings was occupied by the officers 
of the convoy, one by the guard, and the third by the 
prisoners. 

“ Get ready for a rush after the counting is over,” 
said he in a low voice. 

Why so,” Pushkin asked. 

“ There will be a rush to secure sleeping-places in 
the kameras as soon as the gates are opened. If you 
don’t get a place on one of the nares (sleeping-benches), 
you’ll have to sleep on the floor, or out in the corridor, 
or perhaps in the yard.” 



CHAPTER XV. 

NIGHT IN THE POOLOO-ET APE. 

In front of the pooloo-etape the party was drawn up 
to be counted, which was a precaution to make sure 
that the right number was present. It is a trick of the 
brodyags, when one escapes, to protect him by answer- 
ing to his name at roll-call, and keeping up the deception 
where it is possible to do so, consequently, while the 
count is going, on no one is allowed to move. In this 
instance the counting was soon over, the number was 
pronounced “ horosho (all right),” and then the gates of 
the yard were flung open. 

There was a rush and scramble as Dubayeff had pre- 
dicted and, as usually happens in such cases, the choice 
of sleeping-places fell to the strongest. Might makes 
right in Russia more than anywhere else in the world, 
at least such is the foundation on which nearly every- 
thing is based. The strong take from the weak, and 
the weak have no means of protecting themselves. 

Dubayeff succeeded in obtaining a place by pre-emp- 
tion, but Pushkin was less fortunate. It happened that 
Dubayeff found himself next to Nemo, their brodyag 
acquaintance, who had travelled with them from Sara- 
[i56J 


NIGHT IN THE POOLOO-ETAPE. 


157 


tov, and the latter immediately asked what had become 
of Pushkin. 

“ He didn’t get a place,” was the reply. “ He will 
have to sleep in the corridor or on the floor.” 

‘‘ No he won’t,” the brodyag responded instantly ; 
“ he can afford to pay two copecks for my place, and I’ll 
take the .floor. It doesn’t matter where I sleep, but I 
always go in for the rush so as to sell out.” 

The matter was soon arranged and the required price 
was paid. This is a frequent practice with the brodyags, 
and they derive a slight revenue from fastidious prison- 
ers who are fortunate enough to have a little money. 

Immediately after the sleeping-places had been 
secured, numerous transfers were arranged so as to 
bring parties of friends together, and these transactions 
occupied a half hour or so. Then the prisoners ate 
their supper, which consisted mainly of some of the food 
they had kept from the “ preeval ” or mid-day halt, or 
of provisions bought from peasants .since the arrival at 
the station, or from the soldiers. The soldiers supplied 
hot water for making tea, charging a copeck for each 
kettle full, and they also drove a trade in soup from 
their kitchen. Many of the prisoners carried tea-kettles 
at their waist-belts, and some of them had metal cups, 
which they were careful not to allow out of their sight. 

Supper was eaten on the platforms, on the floors, in 
the corridors, or wherever room to sit down could be 
found, and then the exiles, weary from their march of 
thirty versts, were ready for rest. The air of the kamera 
was foul, as there is very little ventilation and the place 
was crowded, but by this time Pushkin had been accus- 
tomed to the conditions of prison life and did not 
greatly mind his present quarters. He considered him- 
self fortunate in having obtained a place on the platform. 


158 


THE SIBERIAN EXILES. 


which, dirty as it was, was infinitely preferable to the 
floor or the corridor. 

“ It’s a shame that we should be crowded into such a 
space as this,” he remarked to Dubayeff as they were 
eating their supper, “ Why does not the government 
make better provision for lodging the prisoners on their 
way to exile ?” 

Because it is unwilling to spend the money to do 
so,” was the reply. “ The trouble is that the etapes and 
pooloo-etapes were built long ago, when there were 
fewer people going into exile than now. The accommo- 
dations were originally intended for 150 exiles, and that 
was the usual size of the convoys when the stations 
were built ; now the convoys are almost never below 
250, and often they are 300 or 400. The condition of 
the etapes has been called to the attention of the 
government over and over again, but nothing is done 
about it.” 

Maximof, a Russian author, who published in St. 
Petersburg a book upon “ Siberia and Penal Servitude,” 
which was allowed by the censor, and therefore has a 
semi-offical character, mentions this overcrowding of 
the etapes, and so does another Russian writer (Orfanof), 
whose book was also published in the capital of the 
empire. Orfanof was an officer who served for several 
years in Siberia, and he mentions many instances of 
great overcrowding that came under his own observa- 
tion. In one estape, with accommodations for 140 pris- 
oners, he found no fewer than 800 ! The same etape 
was often seen by him, and never when it contained 
fewer than 500 “unfortunates.” 

Before the prisoners were allowed to go to sleep they 
were summoned to the yard and the roll was called to 
make sure that none had escaped. Then the sentinels 


NIGHT IN THE POOLOO-ETAPE. 


159 


were placed, the exiles returned to their quarters, silence 
was ordered, and the doors were closed. All peasants 
who had been admitted to sell food were sent away be- 
fore the calling of the roll, and as long as they were 
inside the stockade, a sharp eye was kept on them to see 
that they did not connive at any attempt to escape. 

Sleep came to most of the prisoners through sheer 
weariness. A march of thirty versts (20 miles) in a day 
is within the powers of a robust man without excessive 
fatigue. But when he has been weakened by the priva- 
tions of prison life, by scanty and poor food, unwhole- 
some lodgings, and when, moreover, he is hampered by 
five pounds of iron chain fastening one ankle to the 
other, the march of thirty versts is likely to leave him 
utterly exhausted. This was the case with Pushkin, who 
fell asleep within a few seconds after stretching himself 
on the hard plank which formed his bed. 

His sleep was troubled. He dreamed of home, and 
was again with his family, his wife at his side and his 
children seated around him. A bountiful supper lay 
upon the table and a steaming samovar hissed merrily 
as a hint that it was ready for the preparation of the 
fragrant tea. In the midst of their happiness, and just 
as they were to take their seats at the table, came a loud 
knocking and a summons to open the door in the name 
of the Czar. 

With a start he waked, realized where he was, and 
fell back half fainting upon his bed of plank. Then, as 
he dozed, the incidents of his arrest, imprisonment, the 
midnight departure from Tambov, the convict-car of 
the railway, the prison at Saratov, the fastening of the 
leg-fetters, the “ cage ” on the steamboat, the railway 
again, the forwarding prison, and now the beginning 
of the dreary march of two thousand miles, all passed 


160 


THE SIBERIAN EXILES. 


before him. No wonder he waked again with terror 
depicted on his countenance ; his chains rattled as he 
moved, and told him he was indeed a prisoner and that 
his latter dream was a horrible reality. 

There was a fever in his veins when he rose in the 
morning and partook of the scanty breakfast v/hich 
preceded the second day’s march. The roll was called 
in the yard of the stockade ; then the gates were 
opened and the column filed out, as it had done on the 
previous day. The weather continued dry, and soon the 
convoy was wrapped in a cloud of dust, visible for a 
mile or more across the plain. 

An hour or two before sunset the etape was reached ; 
it had been visible for some time across the plain, its 
dirty yellow, the prevailing color of the Siberian exile 
stations, and the stockade that surrounded it, render- 
ing it impossible to be mistaken for anything else than 
what it was. The etape was considerably larger than 
the pooloo-etape already described, but the general char- 
acter and arrangements were much the same. The roof 
was in a bad condition, the floors were rotten and 
broken, and the building was really unfit for human 
occupancy. It was very evident that in bad weather 
the kameras would be nearly as uncomfortable as the 
court-yard, so far as keeping out the rain was con- 
cerned. 

“ We change our escort here,” said Dubayeff to Push- 
kin as they approached the station. “ The nachalnik 
who has come with us from the end of the railway, goes 
back from here, and takes his soldiers with him ; from 
here to the next etape we have another nachalnik and 
another guard. 

“ This is the kind of place where you can possibly 


NIGHT IN THE POOLOO ETAPE. 1()1 

change your name,” Dubayeff whispered, with his 
mouth close to his friend’s ear. 

“ Change my name ! How ?” 

“ Trade it off for another man’s, some fellow who has 
a lighter sentence than you.” 

“ Please explain ; I don’t understand.” 

“ This is the way of it. You are sentenced to twent}’ 
years of hard labor in the mines, and are going beyond 
Lake Baikal. Is it not so?” 

“ Yes,” was the reply, in a tone of sadness, as the 
thought of what was before him came again into Push- 
kin’s mind. 

“ There are prisoners in the convoy who are sen- 
tenced for four or five years, and are going no further 
than Irkutsk, at least for the present. They will be 
distributed through the Irkutsk province, and will not 
be sent beyond the great lake. Some of them are gam- 
blers and drunkards, fellows who will do anything for 
the sake of money ; they are brodyags who have been 
sent to the mines before, and know the best ways of 
escaping. 

“ Now, for fifty or a hundred rubles, one of these men 
will change name, place and sentence with you ; when 
your name is called for the next departure from the 
station, he will step forward, and when his name is 
called, you will step forward. He answers all questions 
as if he were you, and you follow his example. In that 
way, if you are not detected, he goes beyond the Baikal 
with your sentence, and you remain in the Irkutsk prov- 
ince with his.” 

“ But is it possible to avoid detection ? It seems to me 
that the officers would surely discover us.” 

“ On the road with this convey it could not be done, 
as the officers are familiar with your personality. But 


162 


THE SIBERIAN EXILES. 


when the convoy changes nachalnik and guards, it is 
not so difficult, provided, of course, the old escort is not 
standing by when the roll is called for the new oue to 
take charge. You must get somebody that resembles 
you in a general way, as there is a description opposite 
each name, to prevent this very trick, which was form- 
erly much more common than it is now.” 

“ What will they do with a man when they detect 
him in a trade of this sort ?” 

“ Sometimes they flog both parties to the transaction, 
put them on half rations, (as if the present amount of 
food they get were not scanty enough) and sometimes 
they add a year or two to the original amount of the 
sentence. It’s a risk to run, like every other plan of 
escaping, but many men have taken it.’^ 

“ Will you try it with me ?” Pushkin asked. 

“ Yes, I would if I had the money to do it with. But 
I haven’t it, unfortunately.” 

Pushkin thought a few moments and then said : 

“ If you think the risk is not too great, and are will- 
ing to share it with me, I will supply the money for the 
negotiation.” 

“ No,” replied Dubayeff, “ it would be a loan I might 
never be able to repay. You have need of all the 
money you can carry about you, my brother, and T 
could not allow myself to take it from you.” 

“ Listen,” said Pushkin in reply. “ Rather than go 
out alone, I will stay in the convoy and trust to fate. I 
want your companionship, your aid, your friendship, 
your knowledge of the country and the people. Without 
you, I should certainly be retaken in a few days at 
farthest ; with you, my chances would be greatly 
improved and I know it. Therefore I am not only 
willing but desirous to furnish the moneys if I have it. 


NIGHT IN THE POOLOO-ETAPE. 


163 


that will free us both. We will try the taiga together, 
or I will not try it at all.” 

Pushkin pressed the matter further, and it was at 
length arranged that Dubayeff would endeavor to 
negotiate the desired change of name and place for 
both. 

That very evening, in the etape, the brodyag, Nemo, 
sidled up to Dubayeff and intimated a desire for a con- 
fidential talk. Of course he was accommodated. 

“ Would you and your friend like to change names 
with two short timers?” said Nemo. 

Dubayeff thought it would be injudicious to show 
any eagerness to make the trade, and so he answered 
with an air of the greatest indifference, that he didn't 
believe it could be done. 

“ Listen,” said the brodyag, “ it can be done, and I 
know two men that will make the change with you. 
You are katorga (hard-labor criminals), bound for the 
Trans-Baikal province, and they are poselentse (penal 
colonists), going to Irkutsk.” 

What will they change names for ?” 

“ A hundred and fifty rubles apiece, and I want fifty 
rubles for my share.” 

Evidently Nemo had in him the material for a suc- 
cessful broker in the financial or other markets. He 
did not believe in transacting business for nothing. 

“That’s more money than there is in the whole 
world,” was the reply, “ or at any rate, more than in all 
this convoy. Say fifty rubles apiece and I’ll talk with 
Pushkin and see if he has any money ; I haven’t.” 

“ I know he has some,” Nemo answered, with his 
finger on the side of his nose. “ The money-changer is 
an old friend of mine, and he tipped me the wink. 


164 


THE SIBERIAN EXILES. 


But Tm keeping the secret well ; nobody else knows 
it.” 

It was finally arranged that Pushkin and Dubayeff 
would give one hundred rubles each to the two posel- 
entse to exchange names with them. Nemo received a 
ruble as a retaining fee, and retired to consult with his 
principals. 



CHAPTER XVI. 

HORRORS OF THE ROAD. 

The bargain was closed, but not without considerable 
negotiation, which kept the enterprising Nemo busy. 
The two poselentse wanted some of the money in 
advance, but Dubayeff was firm in his refusal ; he 
argiied that they had the advantages of the situation, as 
it was in their power to fail to respond when the other 
names were called, and with the money in their hands, 
they could deny without danger to themselves that they 
had ever made any arrangement of the kind. Dubay- 
eff and Pushkin would be powerless to help themselves, 
as they could not make complaint to the nachalnik of 
a circumstance that would surely bring punishment on 
their own heads. 

“ It is just possible that Nemo is trying to trick us,” 
said Dubayeff, he is quite capable of doing it, if he has 
the chance. He knows you have money in your posses- 
sion, and will be on the alert all the time to get some 
of it. There is no danger that he will betray you 
to the nachalnik, as that would spoil his chance of mak- 
ing anything out of you, but from this time on he will 
be full of schemes which will cost you something. 
“ I more than half suspect that he and his friends 
have formed a conspiracy in this whole business, and 

[165] 


166 


THE SIBERIAN EXILES. 


that if they could get the money, or any considerable 
part of it in their hands, difficulties would immediately 
arise by which the change of names would be pre- 
vented. At any rate, I’m going to see that they don’t 
get the best of us.” 

As before stated, exiles, when on the road, march two 
days and rest one, the resting being done at the princi- 
pal etapes. The convoy had been on the road two 
days, and therefore it did not proceed until the second 
morning after arriving at the station where the negoti- 
ations were made for the change of names. 

During the day the prisoners lounged around the yard 
and in the building belonging to them, and the time 
of many was spent in studying the walls of the buildings, 
the floors, nares, and every other place where anything 
was cut or written. 

Pushkin observed that there were messages of various 
kinds, nearly all of them short, and consisting principally 
of names and dates. Then there were curious hiero- 
glyphics that he could not decipher, and he asked Du bay, 
effi what they meant. 

“ Nemo can probably tell you better than I,” was the 
reply, “ but I doubt if he would give you any informa- 
tion.” 

“ Why so ?” 

“ These hieroglyphics are communications that the 
brodyags make to one another ; they have a hidden 
meaning, and are exactly analogous to the marks that 
thieves and beggars place on the door-posts of houses to 
inform their brethren of the character of the people 
living there. When one mark becomes known to the 
authorities another is adopted, and though the officials 
try to stop this mode of communication, they do not 
succeed for any length of time,” 


HORRORS OF THE ROAD. 


167 


Nemo happened along about this time and Pushkin 
asked him about the signs. As Dubayeff had predicted, 
the fellow denied all knowledge of them, but as he did 
so there was a twinkle in his eye which indicated that 
he was lying. 

“ Never miud what these particular marks mean,” 
said Pushkin, “ Of course, you don’t know*; but what 
do other travellers know about them ?” 

“ ril tell you a little story I’ve heard about them,” 
said the brodyag, demurely. 

“ Well, then, what is it ?” 

“ Ten or twelve years ago, at an etape between 
Krasnoyarsk and Irkutsk, one or two brodyags used to 
get away from nearly every convoy. They escaped in 
the night, and all that the officers could find out was 
that the number was all right when the prisoners were 
locked into the ostrog and all wrong when the doors 
were opened in the morning. The ostrog was examined 
everywhere, but not a hole was found where the fellows 
could get out ; some of the superstitious soldiers thought 
it was the devil that did the work, and I’m not sure but 
a few of the brodyags thought the same thing. 

“ It went on for a long time, and in spite of the doub- 
ling of the guards and a patrol of Cossacks all around 
the outside, the escapes continued. And it wasn’t until 
the ostrog was pulled down and rebuilt again in a 
different place that the thing was found out and stopped. 
This was the way it happened : 

“ The old ostrog was on some rocky ground close to a 
small river. At the next etape to the West there were 
some marks on one of the nares, which could only be 
found by feeling with the fingers under the end of a 
plank ; but there were marks on the wall that directed 
attention to that plank. A brodyag, who was up to the 


168 


THIi SIBERIAN EXILES. 


tricks of the business, would find these marks, and they 
told him to sleep under the nares at the next station. 
When he got there, and looked for the place to sleep, he 
found some marks that told him what end of the nare to 
sleep under, and then other marks gave him a hint what 
to do. He, and perhaps a neighbor with him, managed to 
squeeze under a beam, and beyond this beam there was 
a plank that could be lifted at one end, provided you 
got hold of it in the right way. 

“ Lifting the plank made a hole in the floor, and this 
hole led into a sort of tunnel made by a natural crevice 
in the rock, where a man could creep along a hundred 
feet or so till he found himself stopped by a big stone. 
When he pushed on it the stone yielded and he found 
himself in the open air. He was careful to replace the 
stone, as the time might come when he would want to 
use the tunnel again. He generally got out early in 
the night so that he was miles away by the next 
morning.” 

“ But couldn’t he be tracked and run down when the 
snow was on the ground ?” Pushkin asked. 

“ Certainly he could, but there was a warning mark 
on the plank that prevented anybody using it when 
snow was on the ground. A brodyag who knows these 
marks always respects them, and doesn’t take a chance 
when he’s told not to.” 

“ Was it ever found out who discovered and first used 
the tunnel ?” 

“Yes, the story is that there was a sylni (person 
under banishment without labor) who had been sent to 
live three years in the neighborhood of that etape. He 
thought it just possible that he might be sent to Siberia 
again, and with a heavier sentence, and so he looked 
around to see if he could devise a way of getting out of 


HORRORS OF THE ROAD. 


169 


that ostrog if he was ever shut up in it. He found the 
crevice in the rock, followed it up till it brought him 
under the floor of one of the kameras of the ostrog, and 
fixed everything all right that way. Then he managed 
to be engaged to repair the floor of the kamera, and he 
repaired it to his own satisfaction, if not to that of his 
employers. 

“ He did as he expected, and came back to Siberia 
sentenced to the mines. By this time he had learned 
all the secret marks and signs of the brodyags, and as he 
didn’t want to keep such a good thing all to himself, he 
helped others in the way I’ve told you. He got out him- 
self and escaped, but I don’t know an3^thing more about 
him.” 

The arrangement for exchanging names was not car- 
ried out, for the reason that the nachalnik and soldiers 
of the old escort were present when the convoy was 
called out to take the road again. Under the circum- 
stances, any attempt at the exchange would have been 
detected, and the parties concerned wisely concluded 
that honesty was the best policy, when there was no 
chance of perpetrating a fraud. 

It rained hard during the night and all the morning 
previous to the start, and the roads were converted into 
lanes of mud. But there was no delay on account of 
the rain ; a Siberian exile convoy must march regard- 
less of the weather or of the condition of the roads on 
which it travels. Pushkin proposed that the prisoners 
should address a respectful petition to the nachalnik 
asking that they be allowed to rest until the roads were 
in a fit condition, but to this suggestion Dubayeif shook 
his head. 

“ No use,” said he, “ not a bit of use.” 

“ Why not ?” queried his inexperienced friend. “ I 


170 


THE SIBEEIAN EXILES. 


know the humanity of the government towards poor 
unfortunates amounts to nothing, but surely the officers 
must be glad of an excuse to keep them from going 
out in such weather as this.” 

“If they condescend to notice your petition at all, 
they will tell you that to halt for such a reason would 
be against the regulations. They will further explain, 
if they are willing to take the trouble, that the move- 
ments of the convoys are arranged so that two shall 
never be at the same station at the same time. When 
we march out this morning the place will be made 
ready for the next convoy ; if the convoys were allowed 
to take their own time, and travel only in fine weather, 
there would be great confusion and great delay in 
reaching our destination.” 

Pushkin acknowledged the force of the argument, 
but insisted that with the telegraph line extending 
from station to station, there could just as well be a 
little humanity in the treatment of the exiles. In 
which view the reader will probably agree with him. 

Out into the rain and mud went the “ unfortunates,” 
their chains clanking as they dragged themselves 
slowly along, hurried now and then by their guards, 
whose temper was none of the best at being compelled 
to face the pitiless storm. Ankle deep was the mud, 
penetrating was the rain, and long before the noon 
halt every one of that marching party was wet to the 
skin. Dripping with rain, they reached the pooloo- 
etape where the night was to be passed ; before their 
arrival Pushkin consoled himself with the reflection 
that his linen bag in the telyega contained a change of 
dry clothing, and his comrade did not undeceive him. 

But when the baggage was taken from the wagons, it 


HORRORS OF THE ROAD. 171 

was found to be no less watersoaked than the garments 
on the prisoners’ backs. 

“ I might of told you so,” said Dubayeff, as he saw 
the despairing expression of Pushkin’s face, “ but 
thought it would be cruel not to let you enjoy your 
delusion.” 

“ I supposed the government would provide tarpaulins 
to spread over the baggage and keep it dry.” 

“So would any sensible man,” was the reply, “ but 
the fact is, nothing of the kind is done. It’s a part of 
the inhumanity of our masters, and we must submit, 
especially as it will do no good to complain.” 

And so it is. The Autocrat of all the Russias sends 
his subjects into exile ; his children have displeased 
him and he punishes them ; but does any father with 
a spark of humanity in his composition deliberately 
resort to torture and neglect as a means of punishment ? 
If he cared aught for the lives of his subjects he would 
not pursue a course that inevitably consigns many of 
them to premature graves. More merciful to shoot 
them, hang them, kill them in some way, than drive 
them into death by disease, as is the result of the system 
he follows at present. 

These were thoughts that passed through Pushkin’s 
mind as he contemplated the dripping contents of the 
bag in which he had expected to find dry clothing to 
exchange for his wet garments. All around him were 
prisoners in the same condition, men and women already 
enfeebled by scanty food and the rigors of prison life. 
They were cold, wet, and covered with mud from feet 
to knees, and their only resource was to lie down in 
their soaked garments and sleep as best they might. 

The rain had kept the peasants from bringing a pro- 
per supply of food for sale at the noon-day halt, and it 


172 


THE SIBERIAN EXILES. 


likewise kept them away from the pooloo-etape. Con- 
sequently many were unable to purchase anything and 
went supperless to their sleeping-places on the nares. 
To the cold and wet and mud was added the torture of 
hunger. 

“ I would endure it all cheerfully,” said Dubayeff, “if 
I could have His August Majesty, the Emperor, as my 
companion. I could bear the hardships of the journey 
into exile, the rain, frost, snows, starvation, the terrible 
roads, the horrors of the stations, the dirt, degradation, 
brutality, and everything else, if he would only share 
them with me and I could see him as he did so. The 
sacred person of His Majesty would furnish a fine feed- 
ing ground for the vermin with which we are infested ; 
how these insect pests would dance with joy when parad- 
ing on and puncturing his delicate skin ! And the Im- 
perial family, the leeches that are devouring the life- 
blood of Russia ; how they would enjoy a month or two 
on the road in chains and privations, and lodged in these 
leaky, tumble-down etapes, reeking with pestilence and 
permeated with the seeds of half the diseases known to 
civilized man !” 

Pushkin was silent, but it was evident from the expres- 
sion of his face that he shared the views of his compan- 
ion in misfortune. How could it well be otherwise ? 

And day after day, with halts for the change of escort, 
and with halts of a few days or weeks at each of the 
principal cities or towns along the route, the weary col- 
umn dragged along towards the dreaded mines, where 
the journey was to end. From the end of the railway 
to the mines of Kara, the destination of Pushkin and his 
comrade, is a distance of two thousand miles. The 
marching convoys average about eighty miles a week, 
and thus it will be seen that six months are required for 


HORRORS OF THE ROAI). 


173 


the journey. The time is really more, in consequence of 
delays at Tomsk, Krasnoyarsk, Irkutsk, and other cities, 
consequent upon the making up of convoys composed 
of prisoners whose destination is the same. 

Pushkin’s march began in the summer, but long before 
he reached Irkutsk the autumn months had come, and 
with them the autumn storms and the cold winds from 
the north that often converted the mud of the roads into 
a partly or wholly frozen mass. Think of wading 
through half frozen mud, hour after hour, barefooted as 
were most of the prisoners, the miserable shoes given to 
them by the government having worn out in the first 
two or three days of their march. Over and over again 
have the convoy officers protested against the robbery 
of the prisoners by the contractors who supply shoes and 
clothing, but their protests are unheeded and the ras- 
cality goes on as before. 

“ The cost of burying those who die on the road from 
exposure,” said Dubayeff one day, “ is more than that 
of a tarpaulin for the baggage wagons of every convoy; 
and the cost of treatment and transportation of those 
whose feet become so sore that they cannot walk, would 
give every man a decent pair of shoes, instead of these 
miserable contrivances that do not cost a tenth part of 
what the contractors get for them.” 

An officer of high rank has made a careful calcula- 
tion and sent his figures to the emperor, showing that 
there would be a saving to the government of fourteen 
rubles ($7.00) on each prisoner, if the exiles were sent 
in wagons or sleighs to their destinations, instead of 
being forced to go on foot. Formerly, all political 
prisoners were carried in vehicles, the criminals being 
the only ones required to march. But the determina- 
tion of the government to subject political offenders to 


174 


THE SIBERIAN EXILES. 


all possible hardship and degradation, bi ought about 
the change. 

Pushkin had looked forward to some relief from fatigue 
and suffering during the halts at the sites named in 
a previous paragraph, but in this he was bitterly disap- 
pointed. If the etapes were bad, the prisons were worse, 
as they were crowded far beyond their capacity ; each 
kamera contained twice as many prisoners as it was orig- 
inally intended for ; but even this fearful overcrowding 
did not suffice. There were sheds and tents in the prison- 
yards, and in them the prisoners, many of them ill with 
typhus, pneumonia, and other diseases, were packed 
as closely as in the kameras. There was not room in 
the hospitals for the sick or even for half of them ; 
they were compelled to remain among those who, though 
greatly debilitated from their hardships and scanty 
food, were still on the list of the “ able-bodied.” 

The tents and sheds, the latter with boarded roofs 
and with ends and sides of cotton cloth, were bad 
enough in the warm days and nights of summer, but 
think what they must have been as lodging-places in 
autumn and winter, for men and women scantily clad, 
wretchedly fed, and crowded together like negroes on a 
slave ship ! 

“ I remember what you told me about the forward- 
ing prison at Tomsk,” said Pushkin to Dubayeff, soon 
after their arrival there, “ but surely I had no idea of 
the horrors of the place.’"*" 

* The following statistics of the Tomsk prison, the central de- 
pot of exiles, are from an authentic source ; “ One pfison can 

accommodate properly 765 men. There is space for 490 healthy 
persons and 275 sick ones, but the number of exiles who arrived 
in Tomsk in 1886 was 16,184, of whom only 14,866 were trans- 
ported further. In 1887 there arrived 14,277 ; in 1888, 15,014; 


HORRORS OF THE ROAD. 


175 


“ Have you seen the family kameras in the bologans 
(sheds), where the family parties of men, women and 
children live ?” 

“ No,” was the reply ; “are they worse than our kaz- 
arm ?’’ 

“ Go and look for yourself, that’s all,” Dubayeff an- 
swered. “ Get permission to see a friend there ; ask 
for leave to see Carl Obossoff, in the second bologan, 
and when you come back you will think we are in a 
palace.” 

and in 1889, up to September, over 12,000 — of whom 13,522. 
14.239, and 1 1,000 respectively, were taken to the interior. In 
1886 the average daily number of prisoners was at least 1,313; 
in 1887, i,i2c; and in 1888, 1,380. In some weeks these num- 
bers increased in 1886 to 2,955, 1887 to 2,755, ^^id in 1888 

even to 3,020 men. Among these the daily average on the sick 
list was, in 1886, 394; in 1887, 512; and in 1888, 396, the major- 
ity suffering from typhoid fever. Between 360 and 400 exiles 
are buried yearly.” 



CHAPTER XVII. 

THE CHECKER-BOARD CIPHER ALPHABET. 

A day or two after his interview with his sister, Ivan, 
in his cell at Tambov, heard a gfentle tapping on the 
wall that separated him from the adjoining apartment. 

He thought nothing of it at first, but as it was re- 
peated over and over again, he concluded that his 
neighbor had something to tell him. Then he thought 
of the “knock alphabet ” that he had heard of, and, at 
once he replied with a few gentle taps. 

He knew nothing of the “ knock alphabet,” and his 
only idea was that the letters taken in their order should 
be numbered, and each letter indicated by the number 
of blows corresponding to its position. With this idea 
he counted the blows that were given on the wall, and 
found that his theory was correet. His unknown neigh- 
bor gave a certain number of knocks, about one second 
apart ; then he paused four or five seconds and gave 
another number ; then paused again and continued. 
By taking the number of knocks to represent a letter, 
Ivan was overjoyed to find that his neighbor was asking 
him : 

“ D-o-y-o-u-u-n-d-e-r-s-t-a-n-d 
[176] 


THE CHECKER-BOARD CIPHER ALPHABET. 177 

The Russian alphabet contains thirty-six letters. 
“D” is the fifth letter, and “a” the first, and con- 
sequently Ivan answered Da (yes)” by knocking five 
times, then pausing and giving a single knock. But if 
he had been using English instead of Russian it would 
have required forty -nine blows on the wall to spell out 
the word y-e-s ” — twenty-five for “ y,” five for “ e ” 
and nineteen for “ .s.” 

He realized that talking in such fashion would be 
very slow work, and as he thought of this, his neighbor 
spelled out : 

“ Here’s better way, wait.” 

Then he gave a hard blow at each of the four corners 
of the wall and followed it with the sound of scratching, 
as if he were drawing seven lines one after the other 
horizontally along the wall, so as to divide the whole 
space into six sections. After drawing the first line he 
gave one knock on the wall, two knocks after drawing 
the second line, three after the third, and so on. Ivan 
readily comprehended what was meant, viz., that the 
spaces were numbered from “ i ” to “ 6,” beginning with 
the space at the top. 

Then the stranger made the same number of per- 
pendicular scratches, and thus the wall was laid off into* 
thirty-six squares, numbers being given horizontally 
from left to right, from “ i ” to “ 6.” Then he rapped 
“letters in squares,” and waited for Ivan to form his 
diagram, which he did on a scrap of paper with ttie ^ 
burnt ends of a match. The Russian alphabet just 
filled the squares — we will suppose he used the English 
letters — and his diagram was as follows ; 



178 


THE SIBERIAN EXILES. 


1 2 3 4 6 6 


a 

b 

c 

d 

e 

f 

g 

h 

i 

i 

. k 

1 

m 

n 

o 

P 

q 

r 

8 

t 

u 

V 

w 

X 

y 

z 

& 











Then the unseen correspondent spelled out in the 
old way the syllables, “lat.” and “ Ion.,’’ which Ivan 
readily understood to mean that the letters were to be 
found in the intersecting squares by latitude and longi- 
tude, /. e., by giving the perpendicular number and 
then the horizontal one. Ivan immediately replied by 
giving five raps and then one for “ y,” one rap and then 
five raps for “ e,” and finally four raps followed by one 
rap for “ s.” 

Ivan had learned the knock alphabet and possessed a 
means of communicating with his neighbor. Even if 
it answered no practical purpose, it was a diversion 
which would enable him to drive away much of the 
dreariness connected with prison life. 

His invisible instructor then told him to make a pause 
at the end of a letter twice as long as between the 
numbers which indicated it, and twice as long between 
words as between letters. When Ivan had indicated 
that he understood the direction, he received the fol- 
low question ; 

^ *** > cwfio are you ?)’* 


f! 


THE CHECKER-BOA ED CIPHER ALPHABET. 179 

Ivan told his name, where he lived, and the eircum- 
stances that brought him to his present situation. Then 
he asked the name of his neighbor and what he was 
arrested for ; the latter replied that he was Ivan Don’t- 
remember and had been imprisoned for stealing a rail- 
way. He had secured the track all right, but was 
captured by the police when he went back to get the 
rolling-stock ! 

This evasive answer convinced our young friend that 
his neighbor was a common criminal, who did not care 
to reveal his identity even to a fellow prisoner. How- 
ever, as the man had not said so outright, and, moreover, 
as they were not physically “ in touch ” with each other, 
he continued to converse with the individual who had 
performed what seemed a most remarkable piece of 
thievery. But it should be remembered that Ivan 
Pushkin was only twenty years of age and had never 
visited America. Under other circumstances, his won- 
der would have been not that a man had stolen a rail- 
way, rolling-stock and all, but that his crime had landed 
him in prison. 

“ Call me ‘ Jeleznai Doroga (Iron Road, or Railway),’ ’’ 
said the unknown. “ It will do as well as anything else. 
Besides it’s better than ‘ Ivan Don’t-remember,’ which 
is altogether too common.” 

The young student assented, and then his friend pro- 
posed to give him further instruction in the knock 
alphabet. 

“ You’re only in your A-B-C’s yet,” said he ; “ there’s 
a great deal to learn before you can pass as a pro- 
fessor.” 

“ What’s the next thing to learn ?” queried Ivan. 

“ You must know how to change the combinations of 
the letters,” was the reply. “ We have them now in a 


180 


THE SIBERIAN EXILES. 


regular form ; there are thirty-six letters, and they can 
be placed in a great many different ways, and the lines 
of figures can be changed as well as the letters. That 
will give you numerous letter-ciphers, but they can be 
studied out by skillful analysis, so that they are not 
altogether safe.” 

“ I see,” Ivan answered. “ Thank you very much.” 

“ Wait a bit. Now I’ll give you a cipher that 
nobody can find out, not even the man who invented 
this or any other alphabet, unless he has the key- word.” 

Ivan waited, and the system was thus explained : 

“ You and your friends have agreed upon the key- 
word ‘horse.’ You want to let them know that you 
have got out of prison and reached Warsaw — to send 
them the message : ‘ Ivan escaped ; now in Warsaw.’ 
You write the message and the key- word under it, thus : 

Ivan escaped now in Warsaw, 
hors ehorseh ors eh orseho. 

“ ‘ 2 ’ and ‘3 ’ are the figures for ‘ I.’ We’ll call ‘ I ’ 
‘ 23,’ and use the numbers for other letters in the same 
way. Our message, reduced to numbers and the key- 
word also reduced to numbers and written under it, 
will be like this : 

2344 II 32 15 41 13 II 34 15 14 32 3345 23 32 45 II 36 41 11,45 
22 33 3641 15 22 33 36 41 15 22 33 3641 15 22 33 36 41 15 22 33 

“ Next you add these numbers together and you get 
the following : 

45 77 47 73 30 63 46 47 75 30 36 65 69 86 38 54 78 47 77 56 33 78 


THE CHECKER-BOARD CIPHER ALPHABET. 


181 


“ Now that’s your -cipher that you send to your friends. 
They take it and write ‘ horse ’ over it as many times as 
are necessary to include all the letters, and then they 
put the numerical equivalents of each letter of ‘ horse ’ 
directly under the figures of the cipher. By subtraction 
they get the numerical equivalents of the letters of the 
actual message, and the rest of the work is easy.” 

“ I see,” said Ivan. “ By combining this with the 
changes of letters in the alphabet squares and frequently 
changing the key- word, it must be difficult to discover 
the meaning of a message sent in this way.” 

“Difficult!” spelled out Mr. Jeleznai Doroga, “it’s 
absolutely impossible. The police know all about the 
cipher code, but they are as powerless to understand 
and read it as they ever were. I’ll show you one of it’s 
curious features.” 

“ The same number may accidently stand for one 
letter as you see in case of ‘ a ’ and ‘ e ’ in ‘ Ivan escaped ;’ 
in both these instances ‘ a ’ is represented by ‘ 47 ’ in the 
cipher and ‘ e ’ by ‘ 30.’ But ‘ a ’ comes twice in ‘ War- 
saw ’ and it is there represented by ‘ 47 ’ in the first 
instance and by ‘ 33 ’ in the second. ‘ N ’ in Ivan is rep- 
resented by ‘41,’ but in ‘now’ it is ‘ 65.’ Without a 
knowledge of the key- word no human being can deci- 
pher a message on this system unless he has the help 
of the D 1 or some other supernatural power.” 

Ivan memorized the checker-board cipher, as the 
arrangement of the letters in squares is called, so that 
he knew on the instant the number for every letter. He 
was able in a few hours to repeat, instead of the ordinary 
A-B-C, something like the following : 

“ II 12 13 14 15 16 21 22 23 24 25 26,” and so on to 
the end. When “ 26 ” was tapped on the wall he knew 


182 


THE SIBEEIAN EXILES. 


on the instant that ‘ 1 ’ was the letter signaled ; and when 
three blows were followed by two, he recognized ‘ n.’ 

It is not so very slow work to communicate in this 
way as one might at first thought imagine. An expert 
in cipher signaling can transmit at about one-third the 
speed of a good operator on the Morse telegraph. 

Of course, while the prisoners were telegraphing to 
each other they kept careful watch to see that they were 
not discovered by their jailers, and several times their 
work came to a sudden stop owing to the presence of a 
warder at the “ Judas ” in the door. But they found a 
method of communicating while they werfe being 
observed ; and so well did they manage it that they some- 
times talked for an hour or more while the warders 
were regarding them through the door. This was the 
way they did it : 

The iron beds were fastened to the walls so that they 
could not be moved. The rods extending into each 
wall, made excellent conductors of sound ; lying on 
their beds the two men were within a foot or so of each 
other, separated, of course, by the stone. By tapping 
gently on the bed-frame close to the wall, a prisoner 
could make a sound audible to one who was lying on 
the bed in the next cell. A man might be apparently 
asleep for hours, lying motionless on his bed, while at 
the same time he was telegraphing to his neighbor, who 
was likewise recumbent, and receiving answers. 

The checker-board cipher is often used for conver- 
sation among prisoners in the hearing of -their guards, 
just as telegraph operators can communicate with each 
other in the presence of others, and keep the latter in 
ignorance of what they are saying. A circumstance of 
this kind gave Pushkin his first acquaintance with the 
cipher alphabet. 


THE CHECKER-BOARD CIPHER ALPHABET. 


183 


One evening, in one of the etapes on the road to 
Tomsk, a brodyag at the further end of the kamera 
called out to one who was lying close to Pushkin : 

“ Ivan Don’t- remember, the scar-faced one !” 

“ Here I am !” was the reply. “What do you want ?” 

The other rattled off a string of numbers, forty or 
fifty of them at least, and then paused for a reply. The 
answer was given in the same, way. 

Nobody paid an}’- attention to it, as nobody could 
understand it. Dubayeff was asleep at the time, and 
nexfe morning Pushkin told what he had heard, and 
was enlightened accordingly. Dubayeff offered to teach 
him the system ; Pushkin assented and acquired it as 
soon as possible. 

Any one who anticipates becoming an occupant of a 
Russian prison is advised to make himself proficient in 
the use of this means of communication. It will be an 
important addition to his resources, and may possibly 
prove a means of escape. The variations of it are end- 
less, as has been shown to the reader, and new varia- 
tions will doubtless occur to every one who puts it in 
practice. It is known all through the prisons of the 
empire, from the frontiers of Germany to the shores of 
the Pacific Ocean, and is likely to be known as long as 
those prisons exist and are used as at present. 

Ivan and Mr. Railway kept up frequent communi- 
cation, and the former tried to talk with his neighbor 
on the other side of his cell. But although he rapped 
on the wall several times a day for some days in suc- 
cession he obtained no reply, and finally concluded that 
the cell was empty, which was really the case. 

Mr. Railway was more fortunate. On the side of his 
cell, opposite from Ivan’s, a prisoner was lodged, who 
soon became proficient in the knock alphabet ; he was 


184 


THE SIBERIAN EXILES. 


a political, who declined to give his name when he found 
out Mr. Railway’s character, or rather, the lack of it. 
He was evidently a man of influence, as he had estab 
lished such relations with one of the keepers as to be 
intrusted with certain matters of prison news that the 
other could not get. Mr. Railway readily surmised that 
money was at the bottom of these favors, and he cer- 
tainly was not far from the truth. 

Whenever the political communicated anything to him, 
Mr. Railway promptly gave the information to Ivan, 
having first obtained his informant’s consent to tell his 
neighbor on the other side. Most of the news was of 
no consequence to the youth, but one afternoon he 
learned something that caused his heart to beat violently. 
He realized that it might have an important bearing on 
his fate, and that of his mother and sister, from whom 
he had heard nothing since his interview with the latter. 



CHAPTER XVIIL 

THE PRISON OF TAMBOV AGAIN. 

The information that came to Ivan from the political 
prisoner beyond the cell of the professor of cipher writ- 
ing, was as follows : 

“ Woman, named Pushkin, seeing lawyer in reception- 
room. Spies overhearing them.” 

Ivan was so agitated that he could not answer 
promptly. When he was sufficiently calm to be able to 
give the signals he asked : 

“ Is it mother or daughter ? The prisoner on the 
other side wants to know.” 

“ Who is he ?” was the next question. 

“ I’ll ask if he’ll let me tell you,” replied the middle- 
man. He crossed to the other side of the cell and 
rapped out the question. 

“ Certainly,” was Ivan’s reply. “ Tell him I am Ivan 
Pushkin.” 

The middleman gave the information, and immediate- 
ly the unknown political answered by means of the 
knock alphabet, that he was Basil Volkoff, and had 
know of Pushkin’s arrest before he himself had been 
drawn into the net of the police. Later on. he admitted 
that this was not the first time he had been confined in 

[185] 


186 


THE SIBERIAN EXILES. 


prison, and under the same charg‘e of “ untrustworthy 
ness.” 

Communication through the three cells was some- 
what slow and kept Mr. Railway, the middleman, very 
busy, inasmuch, as he was obliged to cross his cell when- 
ever he served as a repeating instrument between 
Pushkin and Volkoff. He was also obliged to keep an 
eye upon the “Judas ” in the door, lest his performances 
should be discovered, and on several occasions he 
narrowly escaped detection. 

Naturally, Ivan was very anxious to learn about the 
result of the interview between his mother and Mr. 
Kosavitch, the lawyer, but Volkoff was unable to tell 
him at that time. All he knew was that such an inter- 
view had been arranged for the afternoon, and the spies 
were to overhear the conversation in the corner of the 
reception-room. 

Later in the day, Volkoff signaled that the interview 
lasted nearly an hour, and that the spies went away as 
soon as it was over, and the woman had been returned 
to her cell. 

Ivan wished to know if his mother and sister were 
still together. There was some delay in ascertaining 
about it, but the answer finally came that they were. 

But question as Ivan might, and did, it was impossi- 
ble for him to ascertain the nature of the interview in 
the reception-room. All that he could learn on the 
subject, has already been stated. 

As the two spies walked away from the prison after 
the interview was over, the expression of their faces 
was one of disappointment. They did not exchange a 
word until they were fully a block away-. 

We will call them Blonde and Brunette ; we do not 
know their real names, and • among those who were ac- 


THE PRISON OF TAMBOV AGAIN. 


187 


quainted with them, they were often called as above, in 
consequence of the color of their hair and beards. 

“ Well,” said Blonde, by way of opening the conver- 
sation ; “ we did not make as much out of that affair as 
we expected.” 

“ That’s true,” said the other. “ They must have 
suspected the trap, as there wasn’t information enough 
in all their talk to cover a postage-stamp, or at any 
rate, none that we want.” 

The governor will be disappointed when we tell 
him ; perhaps he’ll think we haven’t attended to our 
duty.” 

“ Quite likely. He’s very suspicious, and he certainly 
wants to make out a good case against these people.” 

“ We’ll have to cook up a good story or he may send 
us away and put others in our 'places. Just now I don’t 
want to leave Tambov.” 

“ Nor I either. What shall we say ?” 

“ Tell him the conversation was principally about 
family matters that had no bearing upon what we are 
trying to find out.” 

“ Nothing could be nearer the truth than that.” 

“ Then we will tell him that the suspicions of the 
untrustworthiness of the Pushkin family is confirmed, 
that the exile of Carl Pavloff is fully justified by the 
revelations which implicate his son and his neighbor, 
Hartmann.” 

“ That will do very well. How about the women ?” 

“ Oh ! let them stay in prison a while longer. They 
will be sufficiently contrite in course of time to confess 
their share in the work, and give information that 
will lead to important arrests.” 

“ Poor devils ! it seems hard to hold them any longer, 
And the young one is so pretty.” 


188 


THE SIBERIAN EXILES. 


“ That’s your weak point always— captured by a pretty 
face. What good can she be to you ! she’s engaged to 
Hartmann’s son and wouldn’t give you the fraction of 
a smile.” 

“ Yes, that’s so, I suppose,” replied the other reflect- 
ively. “ But I can’t help feeling sorry to see her shut 
up in prison when there doesn’t seem to be any reason 
for it.” 

“ No reason for it ! Doesn’t she belong to an untrust- 
worthy family? Besides, we must look out for our- 
selves, and there’s no telling what mischief she might 
work if she could get out and be free to communicate 
with any one.” 

“ I didn’t think of that,” was the reply. “ Well, we’ll 
let her stay.” 

They reported to the governor, and of course the 
latter followed the advice they gave, or, rather, he based 
his action upon the information presented by his faith- 
ful investigators. All the accused individuals remained 
in detention, and the governor had no pangs of con- 
science on the subject. On the contrary, he seemed 
rather to rejoice that so many untrustworthy subjects 
of the Czar were behind bolts and bars where they 
could do no harm. 

In the prisons of Russia at this ver}^ day and hour, 
hundreds of men and women are incarcerated in order 
that spies and detectives may have employment. There 
is nothing against them but suspicion ; if the real state 
of each case was reported to the higher officials it is 
quite possible the latter might realize that there was an 
opportunity to reduce the number of their employes. 
The spies are unwilling to lose the pay they are now 
receiving, and this circumstance is sure to influence their 
reports. 


THE PEISON OF TAMBOV AGAIN. 


189 


After his interview with Madame Pushkin, Mr. Kosa- 
vitch greatly desired to see the governor, as he thought 
he could induce that official to take action favorable to 
his clients. He had an idea that the interview would 
naturally lead to his being notified to come to the 
Chancellerie. Several days having passed without any 
notification reaching him, he ventured to write to the 
governor soliciting the honor and privilege of an audi- 
ence. 

Two, three, and four days passed in anxious waiting. 
On the morning of the fifth day he was summoned to 
the Chancellerie, and went at once. 

The governor received him as cordially as before, and 
assumed the same air of ignorance as to the subject of 
the audience. The lawyer came at once to the point, 
and said he solicited official attention to the cases of his 
clients, and hoped the governor would cause them to be 
formally examined before him, either separately or 
together, as might seem best to His Excellency. 

The governor paused, as though endeavoring to recall' 
the case of the Pushkin family, and also that of their 
friend Hartmann. Ah ! yes, he remembered it per- 
fectly, but, after another pause, he said the government 
was not yet prepared to go on with the investigation. 
So many matters of importance were constantly before 
him for consideration that minor affairs must wait their 
turn. 

“ Pardon my presumption. Your Excellency,” said 
Mr. Kosavitch, “ but this is a matter of great impor- 
tance to the persons concerned. Their liberty is in 
question, and their lives are imperilled by longer deten- 
tion in prison.” 

“ Their lives !” said the governor sharply ; “ then their 


190 


THE SIBERIAN EXILES. 


case is certainly serious, and they may have forfeited all 
claims to clemency by the gravity of their acts.” 

Pardon me if I was not sufficiently clear,” the 
lawyer responded. “ What I meant to say was that 
their health is being greatly impaired by imprisonment, 
and danger to or loss of their health means danger to 
their lives.” 

“Yes, I see,” was the reply. “You have had an 
interview with one of the prisoners, I believe.” 

“ Yes, Your Excellency, and it is that interview 
which impels me to ask for an examination at as early 
a date as may be practicable. I urge it on the ground 
of justice and humanity.” 

“ I will consider the matter and inform you as soon 
as I have reached a conclusion,” was the non-committal 
reply of the governor. With this remark he turned to 
his desk, as a hint that the interview was ended. The 
lawyer was not slow to catch his meaning and immedi- 
ately bowed himself out of the room. 

Just as he opened the door he met an under-official 
holding a telegram in his hand. It was for the gov- 
ernor, and concerned the subject which had just been 
under discussion. 

In the afternoon Mr. Kosavitch took his customary 
stroll along the route taken by his friend, the warder 
of the prison. Whenever the warder had anything to 
communicate he played with the buttons of his coat 
with the fingers of his right hand, but if he had no 
news to give his right arm hung by his side. Now he 
was making the signal agreed upon when communica^ 
tion was desired. 

Mr. Kosavitch stopped in front of a theatrical poster 
that covered part of a wall, and announced that the 
principal theatre of Tambov was to be honored the fob 


THE PRISON OP TAMBOV AGAIN. 


191 


lowing week by the presence of a company of players 
from Moscow. Griboiedofi’s famous comedy, ‘ Gore ot 
Ouma,’ (Grief from Wit) would be presented in a man- 
ner surpassing any previous production ever known in 
the city. 

The warder seemed equally interested in the 
announcement, and ranged himself at the side of the 
lawyer. As he did so, he said in a low tone : 

“ Hartmann and young Pushkin were taken away this 
morning in a tarantass.” 

“ When and where were they taken ?” queried the 
lawyer, as soon as he could catch his breath. 

“ I don’t know where they have gone, but they were 
taken before daylight, and b)^ the same officer chat 
escorted Carl Pushkin when he left Tambov. That is 
all I can tell you.” 

By this time he had finished his inspection of the 
theatrical poster and moved on. Kosavitch returned 
quickly to his home and sat down to think. 

“ Did the governor know of this when he sent for 
me ?” was a question he asked to himself. “ Of course 
he did, and yet he had the coolness to pretend to be as 
ignorant as I was. Perhaps he wanted to find out if I 
had any secret information from the prison, and took 
that plan. He knew if I had heard of their removal I 
would be likely to mention it, or if I did not do so, some- 
thing in my manner would betray me. Well, perhaps 
it is quite as well that I didn’t know.” 

“Strange I haven’t heard from young Hartmann 
since he went to St. Petersburg. I ought to have had 
a letter from him before this. I will write him again 
and trust to my letter getting through, but must be 
very guarded, for the double reason of not alarming him, 
and also to prevent the authorities finding out that I 


192 


THE SIBERIAN EXILES. 


have information from the prison. I’ll say nothing 
about the removal, but will confine myself to the inter- 
view of the governor, with some flattery for His 
Excellency. Then, if the governor intercepts my letter, 
he will hear good of himself instead of the bad that is 
commonly attributed to listeners.” 

The Russian government exercises the paternal right 
of examining the correspondence of its children, and 
also that of foreigners who may be dwelling or visiting 
in Russia. Do not understand that it examines all 
letters, but only such as are under suspicion of contain- 
ing something “ prejudicial to good order,” or whose 
writers, or the persons addressed are under police 
surveillance. 

An ordinary letter may be opened by holding it over 
a jet of steam, which softens the mucilage or gum solu- 
tion, so that the flap of the envelope can be lifted with- 
out injury. If the letter is found to be entirely harmless 
in character, it is generally closed and sent to its des- 
tination, and the work of opening and closing is so 
deftly performed that only the most careful inspection 
will reveal that the envelope has been tampered with. 

Letters to foreign newspapers are very liable to 
attract official attention and examination. The foreign 
journalists in Russia usually address their correspond- 
ence to business houses in the cities where their news- 
papers are situated, even when the letters contain 
nothing that can possibly be considered objectionable, 
in order that delay may be avoided. They also take 
the precaution to register their communications as an 
additional security. 

Mr. Kosavitch spent the evening in writing to young 
Hartmann, detailing the interview with the governor 
and briefly mentioning his visit to the prison and his 


THE PRISON OE TAMBOV AGAIN. 


193 


talk with Madame Pushkin. He added that Nadia was 
well, but suffering from her incarceration, and he hoped 
to interest the governor in her case so that she would 
not be kept in suspense any longer than was absolutely 
necessary. “The governor,” he added, “is a man of 
kindly feelings, and I am sure that if he could exercise 
his own will, he would order her immediate release. 
Of course he is only doing his duty in obeying orders 
from St. Petersburg, and no one can blame him for 
that. In fact, I believe he would at once set free all 
those in whom you and I are interested if it were in his 
power to do so.” 

The lawyer was not exactly frank in this assertion, 
but we have seen that he expected the letter to go 
under the official eye, and therefore he desired to write 
something that would be agreeable reading for His 
Excellency. 

Alexei Hartmann received the letter ; whether it was 
tampered with and perused by the governor, we are 
unable to say, but it was a full day longer in making its 
journey to the capital than some other letters deposited 
at the same time. 

The previous letter had suffered similar delay in its 
travels ; in fact it had been delayed in delivery as 
well as in departure, and no reply had yet been .sent 
to Mr. Kosavitch. The young man thought the lawyer 
would understand silence to mean that so far he had 
not accomplished anything ; but in this view he was not 
altogether correct. He discovered his error when the 
second letter arrived, and as he had good cause to sus- 
pect that his letters had been examined, he wrote very 
guardedly when he sent his reply. 



CHAPTER XIX. 

Ivan’s life and experiences. 

Hartmann and Ivan had met the fate of Carl Pushkin; 
they had been sent to Siberia. 

But they were not in the hard-labor class of exiles as 
he was, and therefore were not submitted to the humili- 
ation of having their heads shaved on one side, neither 
were they put into leg*fetters and compelled to walk 
with these impediments to locomotion. They were of 
the class of sylni, or simple exiles, and were sent to live 
in Siberia for five years by order of the Minister of the 
Interior. “ Untrustworthiness ” was their offence ; they 
had associated with a man who was at that very time on 
his way into exile, and under a much more severe sen- 
tence than theirs, and therefore there must be some- 
thing wrong about them. 

It is unnecessary to recount their adventures as they 
travelled the road on which we have already accom- 
panied the father of the one, and the friend of the other. 
They had the solace of each other’s company until they 
reached Tomsk, where they were retained a short time 
in the central depot of exiles, and then separated. 

Hartmann was sent to live in a town two hundred 
miles to the south of Tomsk, while Ivan went about the 
[194] 


IVAN S LIFE AND EXPERIENCES. 


195 


same distance to the North. They petitioned the exile 
administration at Tomsk to allow them to go to the same 
place to live, but their petition was firmly refused. 

“ I suppose,” said Ivan, “ that the very reason why we 
ask to be exiled to the same place, is the reason why the 
authorities do not want us together. Knowing us to be 
friends, they think there are greater chances that we 
will try to escape.” 

“That is undoubtedly the case,” Mr. Hartmann 
answered. After a pause, he added, that perhaps the 
officials were not altogether wrong in their conclusions. 

When Ivan reached his destination he found that he 
was hedged about by a great many restrictions. He 
was in many ways a prisoner, although he was not con- 
fined within stone walls and behind grated windows. 

Here is his account of his treatment : 

“ The first thing I had to do was to give up my pass- 
port and receive the ‘ permit to reside,’ or ‘ wolf’s pass- 
port,’ as the brodyags call it. The ispravnik gave me 
also a copy of the regulations concerning the life I was 
expected to lead ; these regulations are very long, and 
I sat down in the public square to read them. 

“ While I was reading the document a young man 
happened along ; he eyed me closely and introduced 
himself as soon as he saw what I had in my hand. He 
said he was a supporter of the same Constitution, and 
when I looked at him as though I did not understand, 
he said the exiles were in the habit of calling the Code 
of Regulations their ‘Constitution’ or ‘ Bill of Rights.’ 
He laughed as he said it, and I laughed too when I saw 
the humor of the remark. 

“ I found that I could not move from one hou§e to 
another without notifying the police, that I could not go 
out of the district without police permission, and when- 


196 


THE SIBERIAN EXILES. 


ever I did so, I must make my journey both ways as ex- 
peditiously as possible. If I fell sick, or was otherwise 
detained on the road, I must send notice to the nearest 
police, and must also notify the police in every town or 
village through which I passed and show them my pass- 
port. 

“ I didn’t care very much about this restriction at the 
outset, as I did not see any reason why I should want to 
go away from the town except to stay away forever. I 
had a little money left, very little, and thought I could 
manage to live on it until I found something to do.” 

Ivan then told how his heart sank when he read 
further and found that he was forbidden to engage in 
any kind of teaching, could not be employed as clerk or 
copyist, and could hav^e nothing to do in any way with 
printing offices, libraries, or photographic establishments, 
and could not even keep or be employed in a grog-shop. 

“What is there that one can do,” he asked of the 
man whose acquaintance he had just made. 

“ You can hire out to a peasant to raise potatoes and 
other produce of the soil,” was the reply. “ I don’t 
know of anything else.” 

“But, first, I must find a place to live in,” said Ivan. 

“You’ll have hard work to do it,” replied the other. 

“ Why so ?” 

“ Because you are a political exile like myself. No- 
body wants a lodger who is likely to be visited by the 
police at any day or hour, and who may be a very dan- 
gerous man to have about, apart from the trouble the 
police might make. When I came here, I went to 
nearly every house in the town before I could find a 
lodging, and then I only succeeded through the help of 
another political, who had been here a year or more. 
Pome with me, and I’ll find a place for you. I don’t car^ 


Ivan’s life and expekiences. 


197 


who you are, but we politicals must give a helping hand 
to one another,” 

Ivan gladly accepted the invitation, and with the aid 
of his new friend, who introduced himself as Peter 
Helmanoff, he was soon at rest in a miserable room, for 
which he was to pay two rubles (one dollar) a month. 
It was in the house of a peasant who had two other 
lodgers of the same kind, Helmanoff being one of 
them. The other was a doctor, named Shulmann, who 
had formerly held a high position among the medical 
profession in a Russian city, and was exiled because his 
presence in European Russia was considered prejudi- 
cial to good order. 

The two resident exiles did all in their power to 
welcome the new-comer, but there was little they could 
do. By way of opening the conversation, Ivan 
remarked to the doctor that he doubtless had some- 
thing to occupy him in practicing among the people 
who needed the service of a medical man. 

I wish it were so,” was the reply, “ but I cannot 
practice my profession without special permission from 
the Minister of the Interior. I have applied for it, and 
my application was refused.” 

“ Probably, because of the opposition of other doctors 
living here,” Ivan remarked. 

“ Not at all. There is no doctor in the town, with 
the exception of a very old man who has practically 
given up the profession ; he does not go out at night 
and can only leave his house in the best of weather. 
He prescribes for patients that go to see him, and that 
is all. He indorsed my application ; in fact, it was at 
his suggestion that I asked for the permission.” 

Ivan bit his lip and made no reply. After a pause 
the doctor said ; 


198 


THE SIBERIAN EXILES. 


“ I practiced for a while without pay, solely in the 
interest of humanity, but the ispravnik forbade me to 
continue. I told him that when a peasant came to me 
with some slight ailment, or a wound to be dressed, I 
could see no harm in attending to his case, taking no 
pay for my services ; but the ispravnik called my 
attention to the rules, and told me he would have me 
arrested if I did anything more of the kind. 

“ One day the regular doctor, the old gentleman I 
mentioned, sent for me to come to his house. A 
patient had been brought to him who needed a surgi- 
cal operation which the old doctor couldn’t undertake. 
His hands shake with palsy, his sight is feeble, and he 
frankly says he wants to give up practice altogether. 
It was quite out of the question for him to make the 
delicate operation required, and he sent for me to per- 
form it.” 

“ And did you ?” queried Ivan. 

“ I refused at first, and told the old doctor that he 
must get the consent of the ispravnik before I could do 
anything. His son went to see that official, but he had 
gone to another part of the district and would be 
absent for several days. It was necessary to perform 
the operation at once to save the life of the patient, and 
so I performed it, while the old doctor stood over me 
and gave me nominal directions. His intention was 
to claim that I had simply acted at an assistant in the 
work and carried out the orders of a duly authorized 
surgeon.” 

“ That ought to have satisfied the ispravnik when the 
case was reported to him,” Ivan remarked. 

“But it wasn’t by any means. I spent a week in 
prison, and would have been there a month, or perhaps 
two or three months, if the old doctor hadn’t laid the 


Ivan’s life and experiences. 


199 


case before the governor of the province and secured 
my release. Now the ispravnik is unfriendly to us 
both, and is watching to catch me in another violation 
of the Code. I have had a chance to revenge myself on 
him though, this very week.” 

Ivan was too polite to ask in what way, but waited 
for the doctor to tell him or not as he chose. After a 
pause the latter said : 

“ One of his children was taken very ill in the night, 
and as the regular doctor couldn’t go, the ispravnik 
sent for me. I answered that I was forbidden by the 
regulations to practice medicine, and much as I regret- 
ted to decline, I was obliged to do so. His messenger 
came again and said the ispravnik would give me leave 
to practice in this case. I reminded him that the 
authority must come from the Minister of the Interior, 
and continued to refuse in spite of the statement that 
the child was dangerously ill.” 

“ You might have gone safely enough, could you not ?” 
queried Ivan. 

“ Perhaps so,” was the reply, “ but I’m not entirely 
sure of it. The man is quite capable of calling me to 
attend his child and then putting me under arrest ; it 
would have been quite in keeping with some of the 
methods of the police for him to do so ; besides, if I had 
been unable to save the patient, he could accuse me of 
having killed it deliberately out of revenge.” 

“ Yes, I see,” said Ivan, “ and he could have shown 
that you had good reason to harbor malice against 
him.” 

“ One thing is certain,” continued Dr. Shulmann, 
“ if ever the ispravnik himself is ill, he will not think it 
wise to send for me to prescribe for him.” 


200 


THE SIBERIAN EXILES. 


He did not say more on the subject, but quickly 
changed to other topics of conversation. 

Ivan was unable to find any employment in which he 
could support himself, all practical avenues being closed 
by the Code. He followed the advice of his friends 
and applied to the government for the allowance that is 
doled out to administrative exiles. As this allowance is 
only six rubles (three dollars) a month, it required the 
most pinching economy to exist upon it. He and his 
new friends united their funds into a common purse, 
and in this way managed to get along without starving^ 
Ivan was permitted to send home for a supply of cloth- 
ing, which came in due time, but when delivered it was 
found to be ripped in nearly every seam, in the efforts 
of the police to make sure that it contained nothing 
contraband. 

“ All my letters,” .said Ivan, “ those received, as well 
as those sent, were subject to official supervision. 
When I wrote a letter I was obliged to take it to the 
ispravnik and leave it with him. He could forward it in 
whole or in part as he chose, could destroy it altogether, 
or send it to the Minister of the Interior. When a 
letter came for me, and this is the case with all letters 
addressed to political exiles, it was handed to the isprav- 
nik who always opened and read it. Sometimes he 
kept it for weeks or months, and perhaps I learned of 
its existence from some one who had heard it read at 
the club. The ispravnik has full power over all corres- 
pondence of exiles, and generally he is very quick to 
use it.” 

“ I have sent to my wife asking her to write only the 
briefest details about family matters,” said Dr. Shul- 
mann, when speaking on this subject. “ The ispravnik 
took some of her early letters, which were full of love 


Ivan’s life and experiences. 201 

and devotion, and made them the subject of jest and 
ribald remarks at ^the club, where he read them to a 
lot of scoundrels as depraved as himself. I determined 
to deprive him of this pleasure in future, and so I wrote 
her through the underground mail, telling what had 
occurred, and begging her to guard against it in 
future.” 

As he spoke, his flushed face and the tone of his voice 
caused Ivan to think that it would not be a good thing 
for the ispravnik to fall seriously ill and give Dr. Shul- 
mann a chance to prescribe for him. 

“ It is to be hoped that Siberia does not contain many 
men of this kind/’ said Ivan. “ This brutal ispravnik 
must be an exception, is he not ?” 

“ Less an exception than you might suppose,” was 
the reply. “ Many of the ispravniks, and other small 
officials, are common felons, who were sent to Siberia for 
crime, have served out their sentences, and afterwards 
gone into the government service under assumed names. 
Most of them are coarse, ignorant fellows, and it gives 
them great delight to revenge upon educated men 
or women the ill-treatment they received when they 
themselves were under the ban. They have a right to 
come into our quarters at any hour of the day or night, 
look into our windows, and annoy us in other ways. It 
is bad enongh when men are thus treated ; when the 
victims of these insults are young women, as not infre- 
quently happens, it is not surprising that they lead to 
murder or suicide. The subject is too painful to talk 
about ; let us turn to something else.” 

They talked about various commonplaces, and while 
in the midst of their conversation were surprised by a 
“ domiciliary visit ” of the police. It did not last long, 
and the exiles were soon by themselves once more. 


202 


THE SIBEEIAN EXILES. 


Most of the exiles have ways of communicating with 
their friends in the rest of the world, and with other 
exiles, by what is facetiously termed “ the Underground 
Mail.” In ways known only to themselves they send 
and receive letters, and it is safe to say that there is no 
event of consequence in Siberia which is not speedily 
known in Europe. On the other hand, news of what 
goes on in the outer world is conveyed to the exiles 
everywhere ; whether they be forced colonists in the far 
North, simple exiles like Ivan and his friends, or hard- 
labor convicts like Carl Pushkin. 

Ivan was not long in exile before he learned the ways 
of the secret mail service, and sent and received letters 
without official supervision. Of course he continued to 
conduct his correspondence, ostensibly at least, through 
the official channels, as any failure to do so might have 
aroused suspicion. 

Shulmann took charge of his letters, and he was told 
to ask no questions. One day the doctor brought him 
a letter from Nadia, which told of important happenings 
in Tambov since his mysterious departure, an event of 
which she was not made aware until some time after its 
occurrence. The nature of those happenings we will 
learn in the next chapter. 



CHAPTER XX. 

PUSHKIN AT THE KARA MINES. 

Nadia’s letter to Ivan was dated “ At Home,” and 
said that her mother and herself had been set free with 
as little ceremony as they were arrested. 

** One morning, when the warder brought us our 
breakfast,” said she, he said we might get ready to be 
tranferred from the cell in the course of an hour. He 
gave us the impression that we were to be moved to 
another cell and that was all. 

‘‘ We had very little preparation, as you can believe, 
and were ready to make the change long before we 
were called for. Imagine our surprise when we were 
taken, not to another cell, but to the prison-yard, where 
a tarantass with horses attached was waiting for us. 
We entered the tarantass as we were told to do ; then the 
great gate swung open and, preceded by two Cossacks 
on horseback, we were quickly on the road. 

On the road ! and whither ? How could we tell 
that we were not going into exile, just as Poor Father 
was sent ? But we soon found that we were travelling 
towards home at a rapid pace, and in little more than 
two hours we were at our own door and ordered to 
alight. 

“ We stepped out of the tarantass, which was instantly 

f203j 


m 


THE SIBERIAN EXILES. 


driven away, accompanied by the Cossack guard, with- 
out a word of explanation from anybody. 

“ Out came the servants, the governess, Francesca, 
Joseph, the young children, everybody in fact, and what 
a welcome we had ! It seemed an age, yes, a whole 
life-time, since we went away ; it seemed so to us, and 
from the way they greeted mother and me it was an 
age to them, too. 

“ Mother fainted when she stepped inside the door- 
way, and I felt my head reeling and was near fainting, 
as well. But the thought that she needed me buoyed 
me up, and I bathed her head and did everything else 
that was required to bring her to herself again. But 
when she was all right and talking clearly with the 
governess and the servants, I had to lie down, or I 
should have fallen to the floor. 

“ After the first excitement was over the delight of 
being free again was something I could never describe. 
I never realized such a state of happiness, and if only 
Dear Father and you could have been with us ! — well ! 
— the thought of what pleasure it would have been 
makes it difficult for me to write coherently. 

“ I did not know then that you and Mr. Hartmann 
had been sent away, nor did we know it until we heard 
through Mr. Kosavitch, who came to see us when he 
found we had been liberated. The governor did not 
inform him that we were out of prison, and the warder 
who might have told him was ill and off duty for a week 
when we were sent away. Oh ! that awful word, 
‘prison !’ it makes me shudder to write it. 

“ It seemed an age till your letter came saying that 
you wanted some clothing. It was brought by a 
gendarme, and the name of the place where you are liv- 
ing had been cut out ; we were told that the box was 


PUSHKIN AT THE KARA MINES. 


205 


to be sent to the police office in Tambov, and would be 
forwarded after it had been examined for prohibited 
articles. We were warned not to send any writing or 
books with it, nor anything else except the garments for 
personal wear that you had asked for. 

“ After a while your second letter came, and in that 
they allowed the name of your place of exile to remain. 
I wrote you a very formal letter in reply, as it was to 
undergo official inspection, but I infer from your letter, 
that has just come by what you call ‘ The Underground,’ 
that you never received mine. I will send this one in 
the way you suggest, and hope it will have better for- 
tune than the other.” 

Then followed a series of paragraphs which wholly 
concern the family of Carl Pushkin, the state of affairs 
at home, and other things of no special interest to 
strangers. The letter closed with a brief allusion to 
Alexei Hartmann, who was still in St. Petersburg, and 
had written to Nadia that the date of his return was 
uncertain. The sensitive girl feared that he might be 
in trouble, perhaps under arrest, and unwilling to dis- 
tress her with bad news if he could possibly avoid doing 
so. 

The fact was that young Hartmann was working with 
all his might in behalf of his father and of the Pushkin 
family, but with his youth and inexperience in that 
great beanreaucracy, he could accomplish nothing. He 
had few friends in the capital, and all whom he knew 
were without influence at court, with the single excep- 
tion of the gentleman to whom Mr. Hartmann had 
referred in his secret communication to the lawyer at 
Tambov. This man’s name was Lodoff ; he was a 
wealthy contractor, who supplied the government with 
railway and other material, and consequently he had 


206 


THE SIBERIAN EXILES. 


considerable influence in official circles, though, unfor- 
tunately, not in the direction where influence was then 
most required. 

Had it been a matter of contract for anything Lodoff 
could have told at once the proper way to proceed, the 
officials that would need to be bribed, and the amount 
each would expect in return for his services. But when 
it came to dealing with the office of the Minister of the 
Interior, it was a different matter. He had given that 
establishment as wide a birth as possible all his life, and 
did not wish to have anything to do with it. 

“ I must be very cautious about making inquiries con- 
cerning that department,” Mr. Lodoff said to Alexei, 
“ and caution means time. We don’t know whom to 
trust, and if we are too active we may get into trouble 
without accomplishing anything for those we love. 
Your father and 1 are old friends, and I’ll do all in my 
power to help him, and also to help the family of his 
friend Pushkin, whose daughter is engaged to you. 

“ Come and take dinner with me every Wednesday,” 
said he to Alexei, “ but don’t come oftener than that 
unless you have news to give me or questions to ask. 
Of course, I would like to have you here every day, but 
a young man coming so often to a house where there 
are no young women is likely to excite suspicion. 
When I have anything to communicate I’ll send you an 
invitation for dinner, and you must come early so that we 
can have a chat before it is time to go to table. Leave 
’my invitation on your desk, or stick it up in your 
mirror, so that if your rooms are examined while you 
are absent, the visitors will know where you are. 

“ Meantime,” continued Mr. Lodoff, “ try to get 
employment in the office of the Minister of the Interior. 
You write an excellent hand, and perhaps you could 


PUSHKIN AT THE KARA MINES. 


207 


find a situation as a copyist. Never mind the rate of 
wages they offer, but accept anything you can get.” 

But there can hardly be a chance of my finding a 
place there,” replied the youth. “ I have no friends to 
press me for it, and without friends an application is 
hopeless.” 

“ I realize that,” said the gentleman, “ but you lose 
nothing by being refused. You certainly can get no 
place if you don’t apply at all.” 

Alexei admitted the force of this suggestion and con- 
sented to make the trial. “ I have a good record from 
the University,” said he, “ and believe the professors 
would speak well of me.” 

That is in your favor,” Mr. Lodoff answered, “ and 
you may refer to me as one who knows you and your 
family. You may be sure I’ll say everything in your 
behalf, if any question is asked of me.” 

When Alexei reached his lodgings, he found that a 
call had been made upon him during his absence ; the 
visitor had not left either card or letter, and had dis- 
turbed things very little, but a sufficient number of 
articles had been moved from their places to indicate 
that whoever called there had sought to find if there 
was anything compromising about the room or its 
occupant. Alexei smiled as he thought how complete- 
ly the visitor had been disapppinted. 

But his smile faded away as he thought that it would 
be a very strange proceeding for him to seek employ- 
ment in the very department of the government that 
was keeping him under surveillance ; he might be 
walking into danger instead of avoiding it. What 
should he do ? 

He lay awake for an hour or more meditating upon 
this subject. Before going to sleep, he reached the 


208 


THE SIBERIAN EXILES. 


decision to give the office of the Minister of the Interior 
a very wide berth ; but when he woke in the morning his 
views had undergone a change. 

“ It has often happened,” he said to himself, “ that a 
man escapes a danger by boldly facing it and appearing 
to consider it no danger at all. Vidocq, the famous 
Frenchman, escaped from the galleys by walking up to 
the sergeant of the guard and asking for a light for his 
pipe, and then requesting the sergeant to send a soldier 
to escort him beyond a group of drunken sailors, who 
were quarrelling in the street. 

“ I will go to the bureau of the minister and seek 
employment, and that will be the very thing to disarm 
suspicion. After all, what suspicion can there be about 
a young fellow like me ? From the day I first set foot 
in the capital, I haven’t exchanged a word with an 
* untrustworthy ' person ; at least, so far as I am aware." 

After a light breakfast, he sought a young acquaint- 
ance, whom he had known at the University, to learn 
from him the best way of making an application for 
appointment. This acquaintance had occupied the posi- 
tion of copyist in one of the departments, and was 
therefore familiar with the methods of place-hunting. 
The position he filled was only temporary, and during 
the absence of an incumbent, who had been sent away 
for a vacation on account of his health. 

While Alexei is busy in his search for employment^ 
we will return once more to Siberia. 

At last, after many hardships, perils and privations, 
with shattered body and drooping spirits, Carl Pushkin 
reached the mines, the dreaded mines of Kara (Kah- 
rah). 

The latter part of his journey was made in winter, 
when the cold was intense, the thermometer often mark- 


PUSHKIN AT THE KAEA MINES. 


209 


35*^ 40 '' below zero. Fortunately, the snows are 

not deep in the region between Lake Baikal and the 
Kara district, owing to the climatic peculiarities of that 
part of Siberia, and for the greater part of the way 
travelled by Pushkin, the ground was bare. But the 
cold winds from the north swept over the country with 
their pitiless breath, and the prisoners suffered terribly 
from their severity. Many were frost-bitten, and it 
became necessary to leave them in some of the larger 
stations where there was a permanent guard. They 
received scant medical attendance, and the majority of 
them never recovered. 

For a week or more the convoy containing Pushkin 
and Dubayeff halted at Chita, the capital of the prov- 
ince of the Trans-Baikal, and about three hundred miles 
from the mines. It is not an unattractive place, as it is 
well situated on the bank of the Ingod ah river, one of 
the head streams of the Amoor, and contains many 
substantial buildings. 

“ The history of Chita is full of horrors,” said Dubay- 
eff, “ and its pretty appearance is but a mockery. It 
may be called the gateway of the mines of Nertchinsk, 
those mines which, for more than a hundred years, have 
been the place of banishment for so many thousands of 
men and women, who have displeased the autocrat of 
Russia, or those in power beneath him. Think of the 
lives that have been worn out in chains and servitude, 
tortured, starved, flogged, and subjected to every in- 
dignity that man can imagine ! 

“ The prisons of Chita are the purgatory in which 
they prepare you for the Hades of Nertchinsk and 
Kara,” Dubayeff continued. 

“ But are not the prisons of Tomsk and Irkutsk suf- 


210 


THE SIBERIAN EXILES. 


fid ent preparation for Kara?” Pushkin asked. “What 
worse can they do here ?” 

“ Perhaps not so very much worse,” was the reply, 
“ but in some years the death-rate is higher than at 
either of the other great depots for exiles, owing to the 
poor food and lack of sufficient medical attendance for 
those who are ill. Chita is memorable for having been 
for several years the home of some of the Decembrists, 
and if we were free to walk about, we might see to-day, 
two of the houses they occupied about 1828. They 
were first sent to the mines of Nertchinsk, and after 
working there for two years, they were brought to 
Chita, and employed in a polishing mill and on the 
roads. The graves of those who died here may be 
seen in the cemetery just outside the town. 

“ And ever since their time Chita has been the resi- 
dence of many prisoners, some of them allowed to go 
about under the rules that govern administrative exiles, 
and others held in prisons just like these at Irkutsk. 
Not a few have escaped from here and wandered into the 
wilderness, but the most of them have never gone far 
before they were captured and returned to the embrace 
of the walls that held them.” 

Pushkin found the condition of the prison at Chita 
very much like what he had experienced at Tomsk and 
Irkutsk. There was the same overcrowded condition, a 
hundred men being assigned to a kamera originally 
intended for forty, and sometimes the proportion was 
even larger than this. The air in the kameras was foul 
in the extreme, as the ventilation was very poor, or, 
rather, there was no ventilation at all. After passing a 
night in the kameras the prisoners were pale and appar- 
ently half-suffocated ; those with weak lungs suffered 
terribly, far more than the stronger prisoners, and not a 


PUSHKIN AT THE TARA MINES. 


211 


few were prostrated by pneumonia, typhus, and kindred 
ailments that sent them to the hospital and generally to 
the grave. 

So bad was the prison, that most of the exiles in the 
convoy were glad to be once more on the road, although 
it took them to the mines where hard-labor awaited 
them. 

For two hundred miles the road from Chita lies along 
the valley of the Ingodah and Shilka rivers, the former 
stream uniting with the latter. The Shilka and Argoon 
form the Amoor, the great river of Northeastern Asia, 
which has a volume almost as large as that of the Mis- 
sissippi. It is navigable from the Pacific Ocean to 
Stratensk on the Shilka, a distance of 2,300 miles, and at 
this point the great Siberian road has its beginning. 
The mines of Kara are about one hundred miles from 
Stratensk ; in summer they are reached by boats, which 
descend the Shilka to Ust-Kara (Mouth of the Kara) 
and then ascend the Kara river, while in winter the 
travel is upon the ice, which forms an excellent road 
when the rivers have become well frozen. 

The winter was well advanced when Pushkin’s party 
reached Stratensk, and therefore the rest of the journey 
was made on the ice of the rivers. One cold afternoon 
the prisoners came in sight of Ust Kara, but it was night 
before they entered the walls of the rough buildings, 
which afforded shelter from the winds, though entirely 
lacking in what may be called comfort, even in a prison. 

“ We may possibly stay here for weeks,” said Dubay- 
eff,'*‘ or we may be set at work to-morrow morning. All 
depends upon how much our muscle is wanted for dig- 
ging or washing gold. Sometimes the placers are 
washed out and the colony is comparatively idle until 


212 


THE SIBERIAN EXILES. 


new digging's are found. When they find them, they 
don’t waste any time in putting us at work.” 

“ God grant that we may not be kept here long !” 
exclaimed Pushkin, as he looked around him in the 
kamera to which they had been assigned. 

“ Yes, God grant it,” was the reply. “ Nothing could 
be worse than this.” 



CHAPTER XXL 

PRISONERS AT WORK. 

When we know what caused the exclamations of the 
two prisoners, given at the end of the preceding chap- 
ter, we shall have no cause for wonder. 

“ This is the worst we have seen yet,” said Pushkin, 
“ always excepting those family kameras at Tomsk, 
which I shall never try to describe to anybody, for the 
simple reason that all language would be inadequate.’* 

“This prison was built a long time ago and was 
intended only for temporary use,” Dubayeff explained. 
“ But they have gone on using it year after year and 
decade after decade, and the only repairs they make are 
when it threatens to tumble down in the winter gales. 
They strengthen the outside, but leave the inside 
unchanged.” 

Imagine a low building of logs surrounded by a 
stockade, or, rather, having a stockade at one side of it, 
the building itself forming the other side. The only 
entrance is through a gate in the stockade ; into this 
gateway the convicts marched, and in passing they were 
carefully counted by the receiving officer, who stood 
there note-book in hand. The heavy door closed 

1213 ] 


214 


THE SIBERIAN EXILES. 


behind the convoy, the soldiers on guard took their 
positions at either side of the gate, and then the prison- 
ers were drawn up in line to be counted ^gain. 

When the count was completed, the convicts were 
permitted to enter the building and find their places 
in the kameras. There was the customary rush for 
precedence, and very quickly the yard was cleared of 
the entire party. 

The prison stands on swampy ground that is moist 
in summer and glazed with ice in winter, — or the yard 
would be so glazed were it not for the unclean condi- 
tion in which it is kept. In summer the exhalations 
from the ground are full of malaria, and a sojourn of a 
week or two under its influence is enough to sap a 
strong constitution. It is less bad in winter, but bad 
enough under the best circumstances. 

“ See here,” said Pushkin, as they stepped from the 
yard to the corridor ; “ the floor is covered with filth to 
the depth of an inch or more. Do they ever clean this 
place ?” 

“ Once a year, perhaps, not oftener.” 

The answer was lost, as Pushkin slipped on the floor, 
one of the planks having given way beneath him. The 
floor was dirty throughout the entire length of the 
corridor ; dirty, broken, decaying, and giving forth 
smells absolutely impossible to describe so that the 
reader could have a fair comprehension of them. The 
corridor was lighted by a few small windows in one 
side, but very dimly lighted, so that a visitor could only 
grope his way. On the other side of the corridor were 
the heavy doors of the kameras, and it was on entering 
the kamera that Pushkin made the remark just quoted. 
Surely it was the worst they had seen, with the excep- 
tion of the family kameras at Tomsk. 


PRISONERS At work. 


215 


Filthy in every part, densely crowded, and abounding 
in the vilest odors, such was the kamera to which Push- 
kin and Dubayeff were assigned. Fifty men were 
crowded into a^room which could decently accommo- 
date not more than twenty, and there seemed to be 
very little endeavor on the part of anybody to keep the 
place clean. In the centre of the plank-floor there was 
a hole, into which garbage was swept or thrown ; the 
hole looked and smelled like the entrance of a sewer ; 
it was so used, but unfortunately it was simply a hole 
in the earth without the drainage of a sewer. And 
human beings were forced to live in this place ! men of 
education and refinement, while with them were com- 
mon felons who had been adjudged guilty of crimes 
varying from highway robbery to murder. 

The prison supper was served, the roll was called, 
and then the prisoners were locked for the night in the 
kameras. Breakfast, and again the roll-call on the 
following morning, and then there was a day of idleness 
for Pushkin and his friend. They spent as much of the 
time as possible out of doors, in spite of the cold wind, 
in order to escape the foul air of the kamera. 

“ They used to crowd the women and men into these 
prisons without scruple,” said Dubayeff ; “ but now the 
women are in the building on the other side of the 
stockade. They are not quite so badly off as we are, 
not that any regard is shown for their sex, but because 
they have more space in proportion to their numbers.” 

“ We would be worse crowded than we are,” said a 
prisoner who overheard their conversation, “ were it 
not that so many have gone to the hospital and the 
cemetery.” 

“No wonder they’ve gone there!” exclaimed Push- 
kin. “ The wonder is that all do not go.” 


216 


THE SIBERIAN EXILES. 


Typhus fever, pneumonia, scurvy, consumption, and 
other diseases of the same family, are developed here 
very quickly ” was the reply. “ When they are once 
started, there is little chance for one’s recovery. Twenty 
per cent, of the prisoners at the Kara mines are now 
in hospital, and sometimes the proportion is much 
greater.” 

“ Once there were more than a thousand deaths here 
in a single year,” said Dubayeff, “ but the great num- 
ber caused the commandant to be removed, and another 
appointed in this place. The government thought there 
must be something wrong, though the officer was mak- 
ing an unusually large return of gold for the labor of 
the convicts under him.’’ 

On the third morning after their arrival the prisoners 
were marched out in the direction of the diggings, which 
are scattered along the banks of the Kara river for 
some twenty or thirty miles. There are also diggings 
on the little tributaries of the Kara, and the engineers 
attached to the prisons are constantly searching for new 
deposits. The entire region is known to be auriferous, 
but it is not always easy to find gold in paying quan- 
tities. 

The placer diggings of Siberia are not, in a general 
way, unlike those of other gold-producing regions, and 
therefore do not merit a detailed description. The 
gold-bearing sand, or “ pay-dirt,” as the California 
miners call it, lies under a bed of earth and stone 
varying from ten to twenty feet in thickness. This 
bed must be removed to get at the “ pay-dirt ;” it con- 
sists of gravel, clay and stones, and often the stones are 
of considerable size, so that the labor of removal is very 
severe. Some of the Siberian gold mines are under- 
ground, and are worked by tunneling, as in American 


PRISONERS AT WORK. 


217 


mining regions. Work in the underground mines is 
worse than in the open cuttings, for the reason that the 
air is almost always bad and the mines are very imper- 
fectly drained. The prisoners often work in mud that 
is nearly if not quite knee deep, their clothes become 
wet through and through and in this condition they come 
out of the mines into the piercing air when the day 
is ended and march to their prisons. No wonder their 
health breaks down under such conditions, to which 
must be added the scanty and unwholesome food and 
the terribly vitiated air they must breathe at night in 
the overcrowded kameras. 

Pushkin and Dubayeff were placed in a gang at an 
open cutting and supplied with the tools of their occu- 
pation. Their work was to break up the hard gravel 
and clay above the auriferous sands and wheel it away. 
Their chains were not removed, guards with loaded 
rifles stood constantly over them, and the overseer 
ordered them in exactly the tone of a driver of slaves. 
And to all intents and purposes they were slaves, as 
much so as any negro who ever wore out his existence 
in Cuba or Brazil. 

“ Let us be thankful that we are not chained to our 
wheelbarrows,” said Dubayeff, when they reached the 
mine and stood waiting to begin their work. “ Look 
at that poor fellow at the other end of the cutting.” 

Pushkin looked in the direction indicated and saw 
a man who was fastened to a wheelbarrow ; a chain 
extended from it to the middle link of his leg-fetters, 
and no matter at what work he was employed, or where 
he went, he was obliged to take his barrow with him. 

“ It is taken off at night when the day’s work is over, 
I suppose,” Pushkin remarked, as he ceased looking at 
the “unfortunate.” 


218 


THE SIBERIAN EXILES. 


“ No,” replied Dubayeff ; “ he must have it with him 
day and night, month in and month out, in prison or at 
work in the mine. He cannot take more than a single 
step without it, cannot even cross from one side to the 
other of a prison cell, and if he is ordered from this 
place to one a hundred or a thousand miles away, he 
must trundle the barrow before him.” 

Pushkin stood speechless as Dubayeff continued : 

“ One prisoner, named Shedrin, who had been a 
schoolteacher in Russia, and was sent to Siberia as a 
dangerous revolutionist, was chained to a wheelbarrow 
here in the mines. Orders came one day that he and 
some other politicals should be sent to St. Petersburg 
to be shut up for life in one of the fortresses. He was 
thrown into a wagon, with the wheelbarrow still 
chained to him, and was compelled to carry it all the 
way to the Imperial capital.” 

“ Is such a thing possible ?” said Pushkin, in astonish- 
ment. 

“ Not only possible, but actual,” was the reply. 

When the roads were rough and the prisoners were 
riding instead of marching, the officers found that the 
wheelbarrow caused great inconvenience to the occu- 
pants of the vehicle. It was consequently removed and 
fastened behind the tel3^ega, but it was chained again to 
Shedrin at every halt at the etapes and in the trains 
and steamboats that completed the long journey.” 

“ What had the man done that caused such brutality ’ 

“ He struck an officer,” was the reply, “ and the way 
he came to do so was this : 

“ Two women, political prisoners, on their way to the 
mines, managed to escape from the prison at Irkutsk, 
where their convoy was halted. They were captured a 
few hours later and brought back to prison, and an officer 


PRISONERS AT WORK. 


219 


of the governor-general’s staff, a colonel, happened to 
be in the office of the prison when they were brought in. 
He ordered them . to be searched, and he stood by and 
looked on while they were stripped naked by the rough 
soldiers who obeyed his orders. Not only did he stand 
there, but he insulted them outrageously by his remarks, 
and he afterwards went to one of the kameras and 
boasted to the prisoners there about what he had done. 
Shedrin was so angry when he listened to this, that he 
called the colonel a coward and scoundrel and struck 
him in the face. This was the offence for which he was 
chained to a wheelbarrow." 

“ And men like that colonel are our masters !" said 
Pushkin with indignation. 

“ Unhappily; yes," was the response. “ Occasionally 
there are humane officers in charge of these prisons, and 
the men and women are treated as well as the severe 
rules of the discipline will allow. But for one who is 
humane there are five or more even who are brutes ; 
some are cruel but honest ; some are cruel and at the 
same time are thieves, and still others are cruel, dishon- 
est and confirmed drunkards or libertines. When all 
the bad qualities are combined, what can we expect ?" 

“Yes, you may well say that," Pushkin remarked as 
his friend paused. “ What can we expect ?" 

“ There was one commandant of Kara who destroyed 
the letters sent to the prisoners, and stole all the money 
that was intended for them. It was not being sent sur- 
reptitiously, but in the manner provided by the govern- 
ment, to be retained by the commandant and expended 
for the benefit of the prisoners in any lawful manner 
they ma}’ designate. He destroyed the letters which 
notified them of remittances, and then gambled away 
the money as soon as it reached his hands." 


220 


THE SIBERIAN EXILES. 


But was he allowed to remain here after his conduct 
became known ?” 

“ It took some time to remove him, longer than it did 
to cause one of the most humane officers ever known 
here to resign, for the reason that his conscience would 
not allow him to carry out some of the orders that he 
received from St. Petersburg or from the governor- 
general of Eastern Siberia. He considered these orders 
brutal and wholly unnecessary, and endeavored to have 
them recalled. When he found it impossible to do so, he 
tendered his resignation, and subsequently left the 
service altogether. He tried to have some of the con- 
spirators who were robbing the government brought to 
justice ; in revenge, his house was burned and he 
escaped in his night clothes, and with difficulty saved his 
life. Some of the guilty officers made false charges 
against him, and came very near having him sent into 
the mines as a hard-labor convict. And all this 
because he was honest and humane !” 

This conversation occurred while the prisoners were 
waiting directions to begin work ; it was brought to an 
end by an order from the overseer, and thus began 
Pushkin’s first day at the mines. 

The days followed one after another, there being no 
respite except on the first and fifteenth day of each 
month, and also on the principal saints’ days of the 
Russian calendar. Every morning, at seven, the pris- 
oners were marched out to their toil, and at five in the 
afternoon the work was stopped and they returned to 
the prison. This was the winter schedule ; in summer 
the time of work was much longer, beginning at five in 
the morning and ending at seven in the evening. 
When the deep snows fell, mining operations were alto- 
l^ether suspended^ and then the prisoners had nothing 


PRISONERS AT WORK. 


221 


to do but sit in the pestilential kameras or walk in the 
prison-yard. 

Spring approached, and some of the prisoners laid 
plans for escaping as soon as the weather was mild 
enough for them to live in the open air. Dubayeff and 
Pushkin eagerly considered the various schemes that 
were proposed, and through the advice of the latter, the 
one that had the greatest promise of success was 
adopted. Its result was certainly highly creditable to 
our friend’s sagacity. 



CHAPTER XXIL 

STORY OF AN ESCAPED CONVICT. 

The prisoners expected to be set at work again in the 
mines, but before the snows had melted, an order came 
from St. Petersburg that they were to be kept in close 
confinement, their chains were to be removed, and 
all work in the mines was to be performed by the crim- 
inal convicts. This facilitated the carrying out of the 
plot to escape, which was already well under way. 

The change from winter to spring, in many parts of 
Siberia, is like a transformation scene in a theatre. On 
a certain Sunday, Puskkin relates that the ground was 
covered with snow, and the rivers were frozen as they 
had been for months. Suddenly, on Monday, a strong 
and warm wind from the south set in, and by night- 
fall the snow and ice were melting rapidly. By Thurs- 
day the snow was gone from the hills and valleys, and 
the rivers were filled with floating ice, which was mak- 
ing its way with the swift current towards the sea. 
The melting snows turned the river into a flood, and 
by the following Sunday the stream was clear of ice. 
In a few days the trees were budding, and the ground 
was green with the up-springing grass, and in less than 
[222] 


STORY OF AN RSCARED CONVICT. ^^3 

a fortnight it was thickly carpeted with flowers. Birds 
were singing among the trees, and the cuckoo sounded 
his familiar call in every direction. It was the call for 
the prisoner to escape ; at least, such is the Siberian in- 
terpretation. 

The cuckoo is known among the convicts as “ Gen- 
eral Kukushka,” and when they hear his call, they say 
that the General is summoning them to assemble under 
his banners, and it is their duty to obey. At such 
times, if there is any chance of escape, they eagerly 
embrace it, though well knowing they are very likely 
to be re-captured and returned to prison with severe 
punishment for what they have done. 

“ Why did you run away said a prison official to an 
old convict, who had won the friendship of everybody 
by his good conduct, and received many favors in con- 
sequence. He had been relieved of all supervision, and 
was employed about the stable of one of the officers ; 
he was well fed, and had very light work, and was so 
old that it was supposed he would be entirely contented 
to remain where he was. 

“ General Kukushka called me, and I was obliged to 
go,” was his reply. “ I hear him calling again, and if 
you want to keep me you must lock me up, so that I 
can’t get away.” 

Instances have been known where exiles in what is 
known as “the Free Command,” have gone to the 
officers in the earl}^ spring-time and asked to be sent to 
prison “until General Kukushka has stopped calling.” 
They did not want to run away, but felt that they could 
not resist the summons of their sylvan commander. 

The Free Command consists of those who are allowed 
to live outside of prison, in houses designated for them 
to occupy. They must report daily to the police, and be 




tHE SIBERIAN EXILES. 


subject to domiciliary visits at any time. They are prac- 
tically in the condition described in the settlement 
where Ivan and his friends were living when we last 
saw them. Those who have been followed to Siberia by 
their families may live with them, all the members of 
the families being under the same regulations as the 
exiles themselves. 

Escape from the Free Command is not at all difficult, 
as no guards are kept about the houses, and if an exile 
departs immediately after reporting at the police office, 
or being visited in his house, he can get several hours 
start before his absence is discovered. But if he is 
brought back he is punished, perhaps with a flogging, 
and certainly he will be sent again to the prison of 
whose horrors he knows by practical experience. 

Among the prisoners in the kamera occupied by 
Pushkin and Dubayeff, there were sev^eral who had 
heeded the summons of the cuckoo, and “ taken to the 
woods ” in the hope of getting away from Siberia. As 
the plan for escaping was discussed, each of these men 
told his story in the fullest confidence that it would not 
be repeated to official ears. 

“ I was in the Free Command,*’ said one, whom we will 
call Onossoff, though that was not his real name, “ and 
did a little gold- washing on my own account. You know 
it is against the rule for any convict to have golden 
wheat in his possession, and the same rule applies to all 
the traders who deal with us. But they and we are willing 
to run the risk, the trader gets a large profit, as we are 
obliged to take what he will give us, and neither party 
to the transaction is likely to make any complaint about 
the other. Well, I had a good run of luck, as I found a 
little placer only a short distance from the village, where 


READING THE CODE OF REGULATIONS.— /S'ee Page 195 


T 





1 





... ,^'^1 

:'i: ■ 


s. 


• • 



« 




^ I 


. t 


( 


» 


f 


^ 



« 


I 


1 






« 


\ 



* !• 


/ 






■ ( 


4 


% 







STORY OF AN ESCAPED CONVICT. 


225 


I could work three or four hours a day without being 
discovered. 

“ With the gold, I bought a passport ; it was a forged 
one, but as it was on paper bearing the government 
stamp, it answered my purpose. 

“ Then I bought some clothes that suited the person 
described in the document. I became for the time a 
low-bred peasant, a regular mujik, unable to read or 
write, and in order to represent him fully it was neces- 
sary for me to have a wig, which I made myself. .My 
hair would have enabled any one to detect me, even if 
there had been nothing else in my appearance to* arouse 
suspicion.” 

“ How did you manage to make it ?” one of his audi- 
tors asked. 

Onossoff paused a moment, as though it was a secret 
he did not care to reveal. His questioner apologized 
for the interrogatory, and promised to ask no more 
questions. 

“ I may as well tell you,” said Onossoff, “ as the hint 
may be useful, though I don’t care to try the ruse again, 
and certainly nobody can undertake it often. 

“ A mujik with just the head of hair that 1 wanted 
was killed in a drunken row. He had no friends, and 
was hastily buried, and I volunteered to dig his grave, 
on the pretense that he had been kind to me on several 
occasions. I dug the grave, and didn’t dig it deep, and 
the night after he was buried I went out, re-opened the 
grave, and took off his entire scalp. You see he had no 
further need for his hair, while I could make it very 
useful ; besides, I wanted to make good my words that 
the man had been kind to me.” 

The listeners shook their heads as if intimating that 
a wig obtained in that way would hardly be an agree- 


226 


THE SIBEEIAN EXILES. 


able article of wear. Onossoff divined their thoughts 
and continued: 

“ That wig certainly helped me very much, but I had 
constantly before me the thought of how I got it. 
Whenever I wore it my head used to ache, and you 
may be sure I threw it away as soon as I could. No, I 
didn’t throw it away, but gave it decent burial, though 
its grave was a long distance from where I obtained it^ 

“ After I got the wig, a difficulty that I had not thought 
of confronted me. You see, my beard is black, while 
that mujik’s hair was red. He had a red beard, too, 
but I left that alone in the grave, as I didn’t believe I 
could attach it to my face so as to defy detection. 
A false beard will answer on the stage of a theatre, but 
not in actual every-day life. 

“ I hunted around for red hair-dye, but my search 
was a failure. That kind doesn’t seem to be made, and 
so I was forced to fall back on a decoction of laurel bark 
and lime water, in addition to allowing my beard to be 
constantly dirty. In this way I got along very well. 

“ It was from the Nertchinsk mines that I escaped, 
and not from Kara, and it was two or three weeks from 
the time I was all ready that I ventured to start. 
I had managed to get a fair map of the country between 
the mines and the town of Nertchinsk, and after selling 
all my gold dust I had nearly a hundred rubles left, 
with everything paid for. 

“ One night I started out with a large loaf of bread, 
a few pieces of meat, and a little salt in a packet. 
I determined to avoid the road, though I would keep 
near it, and the most of my travelling was done at night. 
I lived on my bread and meat and such edible roots as 
I could find in the forest or along the stretches of open 
country that I was often obliged to cross. The stars at 


STORY OF AN ESCAPED CONVICT. 


227 


night were my guides, and the sun by day, whenever I 
ventured out in the daytime. But even without them, 
I could have found my way, as the road follows the 
valley of the Nertcha to where it joins the Shilka at 
Nertchinsk. 

“ Not once did I go near a house until I had passed 
beyond Nertchinsk and was on the road to Chita. I 
saw two or three groups of mounted soldiers passing 
along the road, and knew that they were scouring the 
country in hope of finding me. By the time I had 
passed Nertchinsk, to which I gave a wide berth, not 
going near enough to see more than the dome of the 
church, I was out of food, and could find nothing in the 
ground to sustain life. The case was desperate, and I 
found I must risk my freedom or starve. 

“ I was on the top of a hill whence, looking down 
the valley in the direction of Nertchinsk, I saw a com- 
mon telyega, which was evidently the property of a 
peasant. It was going the way I wanted to go, and 
before it got to the top of the hill I was waiting for it 
at the roadside. My guess was correct, as it contained 
nobody except the driver, who proved to be its owner. 

“ ‘ Where are you going, brother ?’ I asked. 

“ ‘ To Chita.' 

“ ‘ So am I. My brother lives there. I started to 
walk all the way from Stratensk to Chita, but have got 
tired of walking and want to ride.’ 

“ ‘ I’ll take you there for a ruble.’ 

“ ‘ Too much,’ I said. ‘ Will give you fifty copecks 
and help drive when you want to sleep.’ 

“ ‘ All right, jump in.’ 

“ In I jumped, and the telyega rattled down the hill. 
I asked my new friend for some bread and offered to 


228 


THE SIBEKIAN EXILES. 


replace it at the next village. Fortunately he had a 
loaf and my hunger was soon satisfied, 

“ At the top of the next hill," continued Onossoff, 
“ my friend got down to fix the harness and I looked 
from the rear of the telyega. On the top of the hill 
over which we had just come I saw a squad of mounted 
soldiers that were evidently following us. My friend 
did not see them, and after he had adjusted the harness, 
I asked if he did not wish to have me drive awhile. 

“ He was only too glad to have me do so, but just as 
he was getting inside the telyega he looked around and 
discovered the soldiers descending the last hill. He 
seemed somewhat alarmed, and I immediately concluded 
that he had done something that was not in conformity 
with the law. Here was my opportunity. 

“ ‘ Before I go further with you,’ said I, ‘ I must 
know who you are, and you want to know who 1 am. 
Here is my passport ; let me see yours.’ 

“ He drew his passport from the breast of his coat, 
where it was wrapped in a dirty rag, very much like 
the one in which my passport was inclosed, I saw that 
his paper was genuine, and as he could not read, I man- 
aged to change the documents while they were in my 
hands. He received my forged paper, rolled it care- 
fully in his rag, and returned the package to his coat. 

“ Then he suggested that he didn’t want the soldiers 
to see him, and if I had no objections he would hide in 
a clump of bushes until they had passed. I readily 
consented, and he jumped out and disappeared while 
the soldiers were concealed from view by the top of 
the hill which was between us and the slope they were 
ascending. 

“ I was busy with a piece of broken harness as they 
came up, and the sergeant in command demanded my 


STORY OF AN ESCAPED CONVICT. 


229 


passport. I handed out the paper, which he examined 
carefully, while two of his men overhauled the vehicle 
to make sure that no one was concealed in it. The 
sergeant asked if I had seen anybody on foot ; I 
answered in the negative, and he then gave the order to 
move on. 

“ Lucky for me he didn’t ask me my name, as I hadn’t 
yet had time to memorize the contents of my new pass- 
port, and in the excitement of the moment, I had not 
learned from my new acquaintance what it was. Soon 
as the soldiers were out of sight I called him, and he 
came out of his place of concealment. 

“ Exactly why he was so fearful of being seen by the 
soldiers he would not tell, and it was no business of mine 
to know. In fact, I didn’t consider it wise to appear in- 
quisitive on the subject, and I merely remarked that 
probably he was afraid of the conscription, to which he 
joyfully assented. What I suspected was, that he had 
been dealing in the products of an illicit distillery, and 
was afraid of arrest on that account, or possibly he might 
have been buying gold from the convicts at the mines 
and had some of it in his possession. 

“We got to Chita without further trouble. I was 
worried about the passports, as the police might have 
orders to arrest the holder of the one I carried, and also 
of the forged one I had given to my friend. On the 
whole, I concluded that the forged paper would be the 
safer document to have, and under pretense of looking 
at them to see how much they looked alike (neither of 
us being supposed to know how to read), I managed to 
trade back again. 

“ At Chita I dropped the fellow after paying him the 
fifty copecks agreed upon, and from that time on saw 
nothing more of him. Then I looked around for some 


230 


THE SIBERIAN EXILES. 


kind of employment that would help me in getting away. 
The police were very vigilant and might fall upon me 
at any moment, but anyhow they didn’t, and in a few 
days I succeeded in hiring out to a man who had a con- 
tract to deliver some goods to a merchant at Verkne 
Udinsk. The goods consisted of German wines and 
spirits and American canned provisions, that had been 
brought up the Amoor and Shilka by steamboat, and 
from Stratensk to Chita in wagons. My employer took 
my passport to have it properly indorsed, along with the 
papers of his other drivers, and I had the satisfaction of 
having it pass through the ordeal without suspicion. I 
was greatly relieved, as the indorsement by the Police 
Master at Chita would make the paper go readily in the 
other offices where I was required to present it. 

“ In this way 1 went from place to place, and was 
never once under suspicion as far as I know. I con- 
stantly had a perfectly plausible story at the end of my 
tongue, but it always gave me a cold shiver when the 
gendarmes suddenly came around to examine our pass- 
ports lest there might be something to indicate that my 
papers were forgeries. 

“ On and on I went, sometimes hiring out as a driver 
of horses to the contractors, who do such a large busi- 
ness in Siberia ; I always accepted every offer of wages, 
no matter how low, and generally for the sake of throw- 
ing any possible inquisitor off the track, I stipulated for 
employment for the return trip, offering to engage for 
lower pay per month than for the single journey. Of 
course a return was the farthest thing possible from 
my wishes, and my apparent anxiety to get back was a 
complete foil if one were needed. 

“ Eventually, I got to Moscow ; but two or three times, 


STORY OF AN ESCAPED CONVICT. 


231 


between Tomsk and Kazan, I thought my fate was 
sealed. 

“ At the first large town west of Tomsk our train, or 
caravan, was detained, to enable the police to search 
every man in the party. They made a thorough search, 
too, and evidently suspected that a runaway convict was 
among us. They took all the drivers into a room in 
the police station, and there we were stripped to the 
skin one after the other. My wig fairly rose on my 
head when the operation began, and I already saw my- 
self in chains and on my way back to the mines.” 

“ How did you escape the discovery of your false 
hair ?” queried one of the listeners. 

“ Luckily the marks they sought for were on the body 
of the runaway and not on his head,” replied Onossoff, 
“ and they had no occasion to look above our shoulders. 
I had bound a rag close around my skull, a very com- 
mon device of the Russian peasants in cold weather, 
and so it attracted no attention.” 



CHAPTER XXIII. 

PERILS AND PRIVATIONS. 

At another time Onossoff was roused in the middle of 
the night to show his papers and answer some very- 
searching questions that were put to him. He 
accounted satisfactorily for his presence in every place, 
and was able to describe the towns and cities with such 
accuracy, that the police were convinced of his honesty. 
The men they sought for were exiles who had escaped 
from Tobolsk in Western Siberia ; they had never 
been at Irkutsk or Chita, and consequently Onossoff ’s 
ability to describe those places was greatly to his 
advantage. 

When he had completed his narrative, another of the 
prisoners told how he and companion had escaped from 
penal servitude in Yeneseisk, in the province of the 
same name. They had been unable to procure pass- 
ports, and therefore were afraid to venture near any of 
the towns or villages, or even show themselves by day 
for days and weeks at a time. “ We should have died 
in the wilderness,” said he, “if we had not fallen in 
with two brodyags ; in point of fact, we came near los- 
ing our lives at the time they fell in with us, as they 
thought we were spies sent out to catch them. We 
[232] 


PERILS AND PRIVATIONS. 


233 


were able to undeceive them very quickly, or they 
might have killed us to ensure their own safety. 

“We were obliged to conceal our real characters and 
pretend that we were brodyags and criminals instead 
of politicals. I claimed to have been a counterfeiter, 
while my companion was a thief whose special line was 
to rob houses and apartments while the owners were 
away, I explained the secrets of my profession as well 
as I could, and promised to take them into partnership 
in case we got safely to St. Petersburg. I told them 
they were just the kind of men I needed for partners, 
as they could pass the false coin at the lafkas (drinking 
shops), and other places, where they could tender the 
spurious money and obtain good in change. 

“ We had four months of hardship before we reached 
the banks of the Dwina, which we wished to descend 
in order to reach Archangel. A good many people 
were waiting there for the opening of navigation, and 
we pretended that we were pilgrims on our way to the 
monastery of Solovetsk. We were very careful about 
saying our prayers in the regular orthodox fashion, lest 
we might be discovered ; our money was very scant, 
and we were forced to beg, but this enabled us to 
carry out the idea of our being pilgrims, and therefore 
was quite in the line of our deception. 

“ The commerce on the Dwina is mainly in corn and 
other products, that are rafted down the stream to the 
market of Archangel. We hired out on one of the 
rafts, where we were to assist at rowing in return for a 
free passage and two rubles in money, in addition to 
our food. The voyage occupied two weeks. When we 
came in sight of Archangel, every one of us broke his 
oar against the side of the raft, in accordance with the 


234 


THE SIBERIAN EXILES. 


custom that has prevailed among the boatmen of the 
Dwina from time immemorial. 

“The police don’t give much attention to the pil- 
grims, but we dared not show ourselves interested in 
anything but the monastery of Solovetsk, lest we might 
be discovered. We decided that it was best to separate 
into couples, and so my friend and myself said good-by 
to our brodyag comrades, and set about finding a pas- 
sage out of the country. 

“ An English steamer was taking in a cargo of tal- 
low, bristles, and other exports of Archangel ; in fact, 
there were several English steamers doing exactly the 
same thing. We got on board of one of them, by help- 
ing the crew to handle the bags of tallow, and managed 
to get below without being discovered. She was just 
completing her load, and it wasn’t more than two or 
three hours after we got stowed away, that the hold 
was closed. She was a freight steamer and had no pas- 
sengers to wait for, and therefore it wasn’t long after 
her cargo was complete that she got under way. 

“ It was dark and hot below deck, and we were 
almost suffocated. Each of us had taken the precau- 
tion to conceal a large bottle of water under his coat, 
and it is well we did so, or we might have perished of 
thirst. We had bread enough for several days, and we 
dug into one of the bags of tallow and ate of that. 
Tallow, and bread and water furnished our only sub- 
vsistence for four days, in a hole where we could not 
turn around without pressing hard against each other. 

“ By this time we felt sure that we were quite out of 
reach of Russia, as the steamer ought to have rounded 
the North Cape and entered the Atlantic. We rapped 
on the deck to attract attention, but it was two or three 


PERILS AND PRIVATIONS. 


235 


hours before the sound we made was heard. Then the 
hatch was taken off, and we crawled out into the light 
of day. Never did the light seem so blessed as at that 
moment. 

‘ Who are you said the gruff voice of the captain 
of the steamer, as he surveyed us from head to foot. 

“‘Water! water!’ we cried, as we fell to the deck, 
unable to speak more. 

“ Water was brought, and after we had satisfied our 
thirst the question was repeated. 

“ ‘ May we talk to you aside ?’ I asked. 

“ The captain took us to his cabin, and then I told 
him frankly who we were and why we had stolen a pas- 
sage on his vessel. I offered to give him our little store 
of money, and if that was not enough, we would work 
our passage to England. 

“ ‘ You may work your passage and keep your money,’ 
said he, as he took us by the hand, ‘ and I won’t turn you 
over to any policeman for having stolen your way on 
board. We happen to be short-handed, as we lost two 
men overboard on the way out, and you can take their 
places. I’ll pay you when we get to London, but you 
must get ashore when I don’t see you, just as you got 
on board.’ 

“ At London he gave each of us a sovereign, and we 
sneaked ashore after thanking him for his kindness 
to a pair of escaping exiles. After awhile we went 
to Paris, and you can’t guess whom we encountered 
there one day, six or eight months after we left Arch- 
angel.” 

“Your brodyag acquaintances, probably,” said one of 
the listeners. 

“ Yes, and they turned out to be politicals like our- 
selves. You can see how well the four of us had to 


236 


THE SIBERIAN EXILES. 


play our parts in order to keep up the deception that 
we did. Each pair supposed the others to be ordinary 
convicts, criminals, without education or refinement, 
and full of criminal intent for the future.” 

Other stories of escape were told, but we have no 
place for them at present. Let us turn to the plan 
which had been made to get away from the Kara 
prison. 

As the prisoners were not allowed outside the enclos- 
ure, work having been wholly suspended at the mines 
so far as the politicals were concerned, the guards had 
become somewhat careless in roll-calls, and in counting 
the prisoners before the kameras were closed for the 
night. From requiring all to be ranged in line while 
the count was made, they fell into the plan of standing 
in the doorway of the kamera and enumerating the 
prisoners as one might count pigs in a pen or sheep in 
a fold. If any prisoner was lying down, and appeared 
to be asleep, he was not disturbed, but counted where 
he lay. 

We are well aware that the air in the kameras was 
foul, and it is no wonder that the officers who counted 
the prisoners were quite willing to avoid the necessity 
of breathing it. Hence their readiness to drop into the 
practice described. 

Pushkin suggested that a pile of rubbi.sh should be 
allowed to accumulate in the prison-yard, in a corner 
made by the junction of one of the buildings with the 
stockade. They readily obtained permission to clear 
up the yard, and threw the rubbish in the place selected 
for it. It was arranged in such a way that two men 
could be concealed beneath it without attracting atten- 
tion. 

This was done two or three weeks before putting the 


I'ERILS AND PRIVATIONS, 


23Y 


plan of escape into execution. Then lots were drawn 
to determine who should be the first to get out. 

The choice fell upon two young men from St. Peters- 
burgh. One had been for a short time in the naval ser- 
vice, and the other was a graduate of the Imperial Uni- 
versity and had taken his degree only a few months 
before the trouble which led to his arrest and exile to 
Siberia. 

It was arranged with friends in the Free Command 
outside the prison to place two suits of ordinary cloth- 
ing, such as the peasants wear, in a spot agreed upon. 
This would enable the runaways to exchange their 
prison garb for something that would not reveal their 
character, and the friends would secure the prison suits 
as soon as possible, and destroy them. They were also 
to leave a supply of food, so that the escaping prisoners 
might have a supply for several days, and thus facilitate 
their flight. 

On the night fixed for the escape everything was 
ready both in and outside of the prison. The young men 
took an affectionate leave of their companions, as it was 
more than probable they might never meet again. 
“ We certainly hope we are not destined to meet for 
many months at least,” said Pushkin, as he took them 
by the hand, “ since an early meeting means that you 
will not succeed.” 

Just before the hour of going into the kameras for 
the night, the men concealed themselves beneath the 
pile of rubbish. Their places on the sleeping-bench 
were occupied by two dummy figures, carefully made up 
to resemble sleeping men. 

The officer came and made the verification by count- 
ing. Then the kamera was closed, the night-guard was 
set and the place was quiet. 


288 


THE SIBEEIAN EXILES. 


The men outside crept cautiously from beneath the 
rubbish, scaled the stockade, slipped quietly down the 
outside and got away without making the least noise. 
They found the clothing and food as agreed upon, left 
their prison garb in the same place of concealment, and 
before the next morning dawned they were far away 
on their route to freedom. 

Carrying out Pushkin’s plan they travelled eastward, 
following as near as they dared the bank of the Shilka 
to its junction with the Argoon to form the Amoor. 
From this point to its junction with the Usuree river, 
the country on the south bank of the Amoor belongs to 
China, while that on the North side is Russian territory. 
Along the Russian bank there are settlements at various 
distances from each other ; they were established there 
for the purpose of developing the country and supply- 
ing the steamers navigating the river with fuel, and 
some of them have grown to considerable import- 
ance. 

The southern bank is occupied here and there by 
villages of aboriginals of Mongolian origin, and there is 
one Chinese city, Igoon, with about twenty thousand 
inhabitants. The Chinese and the original natives are 
not particularly friendly to the Russians, though there 
is no actual hostility between them. 

The scheme was to steal a boat in the night time at 
one of the Russian villages on the north bank, and then 
float down the river with the current until an hour or 
so before daylight, when a refuge would be sought on 
the southern shore until darkness came again. At the 
first opportunity the boat would be exchanged for a 
native canoe, and then, the runaways, by disguising 
themselves so as to resemble natives, might proceed in 
the daytime, being careful always not to approach the 


PERILS AND PRIVATIONS. 


239 


northern shore and to keep as far as possible from any 
steamboats they might see. All the larger towns of the 
Russians were to be passed in the night, as the officers 
of the garrisons might examine them with telescopes 
and detect their disguises. 

They had many narrow escapes from detection and 
arrest, but succeeded in reaching the coast at De 
Castries Bay, below the mouth of the Amoor. A 
Japanese steamer happened to be there when they 
arrived, and through the connivance of some of her 
crew, they were smuggled on board and hidden in her 
hold until the vessel was well down the Gulf of Tartary, 
on her way to Hakodadi. Japan had no reason to feel 
very amiable towards the Russian bear, and when the 
captain found who his unauthorized passengers were, he 
simply told them he should put them ashore at the first 
port he reached. As this port was a Japanese one, they 
had no reason to object to this way of ridding himself 
of their presence. 

We have seen these unfortunates in a land of safety 
and will now return to the prison at Kara. 

A few nights after the first escape, two other prison- 
ers got away and afterwards two more. Those who 
remained were careful to place the required number of 
dummies on the sleeping-benches every night, so that 
the verification before the shutting up of the kameras 
did not reveal what had happened. 

Now came the turn of Pushkin and Dubayeff to avail 
themselves of the road to liberty. 

The preparations for departure were made, and there 
was an affecting scene in the kamera an hour or two 
before nightfall, when our friends said farewell to those 
who had so long been their companions in misfortune. 
All day Pushkin had seemed greatly depressed, and 


240 


THE SIBERIAN EXILES. 


more than once he was half determined to abandon the 
enterprise and remain in prison. He was cheered by 
Dubayeff, but all that the latter was able to say could 
not wholly restore his spirits, which, down to that day, 
had been buoyant. 

The leave-taking was suddenly interrupted by the 
entrance of the commandant of the prison, accompanied 
by a strong guard. It was customary for one of the 
warders to notify the prisoners a few moments before 
the coming of an officer, but in this case no warning 
was given. 



II/// 



FLOGGING WITH THE “ PLET.” 

The prisoners were ordered into the yard, and their 
movements were hastened by the soldiers, who had 
orders to drive them out of the kameras at the point of 
the bayonet in case of resistance. Then the kameras 
were searched and the dummy figures were found 
under the sleeping-benches. This was the first infor- 
mation that the officers had that any one had escaped. 

An immediate enumeration was ordered, and it was 
found that six prisoners were missing ; the presence of 
the eight dummies showed that two more were on the 
point of flight, and the commandant immediately set 
about ascertaining their names. 

All were questioned one by one. Each man declined 
to give any information other than that the choice to 
go out had been decided by lot, so that all were equally 
guilty. This had been agreed to at the inception of the 
plot, and was so stated by every prisoner when his turn 
came to pass under the inquisition. 

Finding he could learn nothing in this way, the com- 
mandant offered exemption from all punishment to the 
man who would reveal the names of the two prisoners 
whose turn it was to escape. 


[241] 


212 


THE SIBERIAN EXILES. 


There was silence along the whole line. Not a man 
moved or indicated his willingness to accept the 
proffered bribe. 

“ Once more !” said the commandant. “ Unless I 
know those names within ten minutes, every man will 
go into leg-fetters and handcuffs.” 

Then he walked away, leaving the prisoners to con- 
sult among themselves. They broke the rank and 
gathered in a group out of earshot of the soldiers. 

“ I will acknowledge that I was to leave this evening 
and would go out alone,” said Pushkin. “ That will 
save the rest from punishment.” 

“ No ! no ! you shall not,” came in a suppressed but 
fierce whisper from the lips of all his companions. 

It will not save us, and would make you suffer more 
than the rest.” 

“ Perhaps it would be better,” said Pushkin. 

The others declared that he should not. He persisted, 
and then Dubayeff added that he, too, would confess 
that he was to accompany Pushkin. 

Another man spoke and said he would announce to 
the commandant that the lot had not yet been drawn 
for the escape of that night. But the others said they 
would not be believed, and they might as well remain 
faithful to the promise which had been sworn to at the 
start. 

Convinced that they could do no real good by 
acknowledging their part in the matter, Pushkin and 
Dubayeff yielded to the importunity of their comrades 
and consented to stand by the original agreement. 

“ Time is up,” said the commandant. ‘‘ Stroisa r 

The rank was formed again and the commandant 
addressed the first man in the line ; 

“ Have you decided ?” 


FLOGGING WITH THE “ PLET.” 


243 


“ Yes, we have.” 

Well, who are the men ?” 

“ We answer as before, that everything is decided by 
lot and all are equally guilty.” 

Then they were ordered to their kameras, which had 
been stripped in the meantime of everything belong- 
ing to the prisoners. They had only the clothing they 
wore, all their extra garments and everything they had 
been allowed to buy with their own money, or had 
received from their friends or from benevolent people 
outside, was gone. Nothing was left save the vermin 
that infested the place, as it infests every prison in 
Siberia, often to the extent of driving prisoners to. 
despair and suicide. 

As a preliminary, the prisoners were deprived of 
supper, not a particle of food being given them before 
the kamera was closed. The commandant had a pur- 
pose in thus depriving them of nourishment, beyond the 
mere idea of punishing them for wrongdoing. He 
hoped that hunger would drive them to desperate acts, 
and thus he would have a reason for shooting down all 
who showed themselves insubordinate. Then he would 
report that there had been a serious “ boont (insurrec- 
tion),” which he had been compelled to suppress by 
severe measures. 

As soon as the prisoners were ordered to their 
kameras, the news of the escape was flashed by the 
telegraph in every direction where the wire extended. 
Descriptions of the mis.sing men accompanied the news 
of their flight, and by the mail that left the next day 
their photographs were forwarded to the principal 
centres of police activity. 

The second couple was not recaptured, but the third 
and last that left was overtaken and brought back. 




THE SIBEEIAK EXILES. 


They had succeeded in crossing the Shilka, and had 
almost reached the frontier of Mongolia before they 
were apprehended. Word was sent throughout the 
country that they had been retaken, and naming the 
place of their capture, and the officers naturally sup- 
posed that the others had taken the same course. 
Consequent!}^, the search was redoubled in that quarter 
and slackened elsewhere, and this enabled the others to 
avoid recapture. This was a part of Pushkin’s scheme ; 
the first couple was to descend the Amoor, the second 
go westward towards Lake Baikal, and the third seek to 
reach safety on the soil of China. If he and Dubayeff 
had succeeded in getting away, they would have tried 
to reach the Okhotsk sea by travelling to the north and 
east of the Yablonnoi mountains. Once on the shores 
of that sea, they hoped to be picked up by an American 
or English whaling vessel, and carried to the Sandwich 
Islands or other friendly land. 

On the morning after the scene in the prison-yard, 
which has just been described, all the prisoners were 
put in leg-fetters. There was the clanking of chains 
everywhere, and as the blacksmith’s hammer closed the 
rivets one after another, the hearts of the victims sank 
within them. Their heads were half-shaved as when 
they were first condemned, and they were ordered to 
remain in close confinement, except for a limited time 
during the day. When they were taken into the 
prison-yard they were handcuffed, and if they lagged 
at all in their steps, the soldiers had orders to prod 
them with their bayonets. 

Five or six days passed, and then the two escaped 
prisoners were brought to the prison, ironed hand and 
foot. From the place where they were retaken they 
were compelled to make a forced march back to the 


FLOGGING WITH THE PLET.” 


245 


banks of the Shilka ; they had been scantily fed and 
rudely treated, and their physical condition was so low 
that the medical attendant at the prison said they must 
be allowed a period of rest before receiving any physi- 
cal punishment. 

They were sent to the hospital, where they were fed 
and treated fairly well, not on account of any feeling of 
pity on the part of those who had them in charge, but 
in order to bring them up to the necessary condition to 
be flogged. 

Down to quite recent years it has not been the cus- 
tom in Siberian prisons to flog the political convicts. 
They were punished for infractions of duty in a variety 
of ways, such as shutting them up in secret cells, reduc- 
ing their allowance of food, confining them hand and 
foot with heavy irons, depriving them of all privileges 
of books, writing materials or communication with 
friends, but never by flogging. This punishment was 
reserved for the criminal classes only. Whenever a 
political prisoner had done anything that, were he a 
criminal, would have rendered him liable to a flogging, 
it was the custom for the prison surgeon to certify that 
the physical condition of the accused was such that 
flogging would be dangerous to his life. In this way 
he escaped the degradation. 

But in recent times, the government determined to 
put the political convicts on the same footing as the 
criminal ones ; including flogging and all other degrada- 
tions. When the orders to that effect were received, 
some of the officers connected with the management of 
the prisons resigned their positions, and sought transfers 
to other departments, rather than act as they had been 
directed. But it was not difficult to fill their places, and 
the regulations were carried out with the utmost rigor. 


2i6 


THE SIBEEIAN EXILES. 


Down to about the middle of this century flogging in 
Russia was performed with the knout (noot). This 
weapon of cruelty is a thong of thick leather, twelve or 
fifteen feet long, cut in a triangular shape, and ham- 
mered iintil it is very nearly as hard as a piece of wood ; 
sometimes iron filings or bits of wire are hammered 
into it to give it additional hardness and to tear the 
flesh of the victim. By law, the number of blows was 
limited to one hundred and one, but when these were 
given with the full strength of the executioner, very 
few persons ever survived them. If the victim died 
during the administration of the punishment, the flog- 
ging continued until the full number of blows ordered 
had been given. 

Though the use of the knout was abolished by impe- 
rial order, it continued “ in exceptional cases Russians 
generally deny that it is used at all, and certainly the 
cases are rare during the past twenty years. 

It was rumored among the prisoners at the Kara 
mines, that the captured runaways were to be flogged, 
and naturally the report caused much discussion. 

It is possible that they may use the knout, as in 
olden times,” said Dubayeff, “ but more likely they will 
employ \vhat they consider its humane substitute, the 
plet.” 

“ I would rather be knouted at once, if I cannot be 
shot,” said one of the prisoners. “ The knout is more 
merciful than the plet, though apparently more cruel. 
Better die under a hundred blows than under a thou- 
sand.” 

A thousand !” exclaimed Dubayeff. ‘‘ They can 
give you six thousand blows, or even more.” 

“ Yes, but it generally takes about a thousand blows 


247 


TLOGGING WITH THE ‘‘ PLET.” 

to cause death,” was the reply, “ and the remainder are 
applied to the corpse.” 

When the medical attendant at the prison certified 
that the men were sufficiently strong to undergo the 
punishment of the plet, the execution of the sentence 
was ordered by the commandant. Five hundred blows 
were to be given to each prisoner ; the original order 
was for double that number, but the commandant was 
warned that they would be likely to cause death, and 
this was not what he desired. He preferred that his 
victims should live and suffer. 

The flogging was performed just outside the prison- 
yard ; the prisoners were not required to be present, as 
the commandant feared that their indignation might 
lead them to revolt then and there, regardless of the 
consequences. 

One hundred soldiers were drawn up in double lines 
facing each other, and about six feet apart. Each soldier 
had laid aside his rifle and was armed with a plet or 
birch rod, four feet in length, and about the size of a 
man’s little finger. 

The first of the victims was named Rodanoff, a native 
of Kiev, and the son of a prominent citizen of that place. 
He was brought from the hospital in a cart, and wore 
his leg-fetters, which rattled as he stepped to the ground. 
His lower limbs were covered with trowsers, held in 
place by a cord at his hips ; the rest of his body was 
naked, though it was covered on the way from the hos- 
pital by his coat, which lay loosely upon his shoulders. 
His hands were securely tied in front of him, and as he 
descended from the cart, they were fastened in the angle 
of a pair of crossed muskets (with fixed bayonets), that 
were held by two non-commissioned officers. The com- 
missioned officers and all others, excepting those who 


218 


THE SIBERIAN EXILES. 


held the muskets, were distributed along the line to see 
that every soldier gave the heaviest blow with the plet 
that it was in his power to give. 

When all was ready, the sentence was read to Rodan- 
off, and he was informed that by the clemency of the 
commandant the number of blows had been reduced 
one-half. Instead of a thousand he would only receive 
five hundred. 

He said nothing, but stood with his teeth firmly 
clenched, and was evidently determined to bear as 
bravely as possible the punishment that had been 
decreed. Then the order to proceed was given, and 
the two sergeants walked slowly backwards between 
the files of men, and as they passed along each soldier 
administered a vigorous blow with the stick upon the 
naked back of the prisoner. 

The reader will observe that the sergeants walked 
slowly. There would be mercy in allowing them to 
move rapidly, and thus get through the ordeal as quickly 
as possible ; but such is not the intention of the inventor 
of punishment with the plet. There is the prisoner, 
bound between the crossed muskets ; he must walk as 
those who hold the muskets walk, and they move at a 
slow pace in order that the punishment may be pro- 
longed, and every soldier can do his work thoroughly. 

The supple birches cut deep into the flesh, drawing 
the blood at every stroke, and before the end of the line 
was reached, the prisoner’s back was a mass of gore. 
His face was crimson, his eyes seemed starting from 
their sockets, many of the blows were received with a 
convulsive shudder, but he did not utter a sound. Not 
a cry escaped his lips, which were red to bursting, but 
soon assumed a tinge of purple. 

At the end of the lines the sergeants turned and 


FLOGGING WITH THE “ PLET.” 


2i9 


retraced their steps ; as one hundred soldiers were in 
line and each man was to administer but a single blow 
when the prisoner passed him, it was necessary to go 
five times along the line to carry out the sentence. 

Blood poured down his limbs as he walked, and the 
blows were applied to raw and quivering flesh, but the 
punishment continued. Near the three-hundredth blqw 
the color left the prisoner’s face and blood spurted from 
his nostrils ; he fainted and fell forward, so that the two 
sergeants were unable to hold him upright. 

Then the cart was brought forward and Rodanoff, 
quite insensible, was placed within it, and laid flat on his 
face upon a truss of straw. The cart was led slowly along 
the lines till the remaining blows had been given, and 
then the poor wreteh was carried away to the hospital 
to be restored and healed, provided he lived. Some- 
times, in such cases, when a victim faints, he is carried 
to the hospital at once, the punishment being suspended. 
A careful record is kept of the number of blows he has 
received, and when, weeks or months later, the surgeon 
certifies that he is sufficiently restored, he is brought 
out and receives the remainder. 

Enough of this horrible scene, which the Russians 
appear to consider a humane substitute for the appli- 
cation of the knout. The punishment of the plet is 
sometimes called “ running the gauntlet this would 
imply that the victim is allowed to run between the 
files of men and avoid the blows if possible, which is 
very far from being the case. Special care is taken that 
he shall not run, nor can he even proceed at an ordinary 
walking pace. And if any soldier should, out of com- 
passion, deliver aught but a vigorous blow, he is liable 
to receive a dozen strokes of the plet on his own back 
in order to teach him his duty. 


250 


THE SIBERIA!^ EXILES. 


After Rodanoff was carried to the hospital, his com- 
rade was tied to the crossed muskets and received his 
punishment. The scene was exactly like that which 
preceded it, save that the victim endured the infliction 
without fainting, although his back was not less lacer- 
ated than was that of his friend. Both men were in 
hospital for nearly five months before the surgeon 
certified that they were sufficiently restored to be 
returned to prison. 



CHAPTER XXV. 

THE HUNGER STRIKE. 

Until the hour when the flogging was performed the 
prisoners expected to be compelled to witness it. They 
had agreed that if they were ordered out they would 
go, but each man was to stand with his eyes shut, and 
his fingers in his ears, provided he were not handcuffed, 
while the flogging took place. No plan was formed 
for offering resistance, as it was plain that the)^ would 
be shot down in case of failure to do as they were 
ordered. 

“ There’s an old adage,” said Pushkin, that one 
man may take ahorse to water, but ten can’t make him 
drink.” 

“ Yes,” replied one, who was standing near him, 
“ they may compel us to go out, but we will not see or 
hear what takes place.” 

“ If they handcuff us we will have to hear the sound 
of the plet as it falls,” said Dubayeff. 

“We will stuff our ears with pellets of dough from 
our bread,” said one of the party, “ and can do it when 
we are ordered into the yard where the handcuffing 
will take place.” 

Rye bread, commonly called black bread (chorney 

[251] 



252 


THE SIBERIAN EXILES. 


kleb) in Russia, is a very plastic material, and the 
listeners readily saw that its use in the manner sug- 
gested was feasible. Happily there was no occasion to 
try it. 

Many of the prisoners whose tastes are artistic 
devote their time to fashioning little statuettes and 
other figures out of the black bread, which forms an 
important part of their rations. The writer has seen, 
many of these works of exile hands ; one of the best he 
remembers was shown to him at Chita, and consisted of 
a set of chessmen, wholly made of the material des- 
cribed., It was the work of a Polish exile, and had been 
purchased by one of the officers of the garrison. 

One of the ways of adding to the unhappiness of 
prisoners is an order occasionally issued in Russian 
prisons, forbidding the inmates to indulge in any 
artistic work of this sort. The object of the order has 
no other purpose than to enforce absolute idleness 
regardless of the result. 

But if the prisoners at Kara were not compelled to 
witness the punishment of their recent companions, 
they were treated with the greatest rigor. On the day 
following the incident just described, they were ordered 
into the yard early in the morning, and carpenters were 
set at work erecting partitions in the kameras, so as to 
convert each of them into three or four cells. The 
prisoners were then divided into squads of six or eight, 
and a cell was assigned to each squad. There was no 
chance to walk about, as the sleeping-benches occupied 
the greater part of the space ; not more than three steps 
could be taken in any one direction, and the pri.soners 
had their choice to lie or sit on the benches, or stand in 
the narrow space left between the foot of a bench and 
the wall. 


THE HUNGER STRIKE. 


253 


They were allowed no bedding of any kind ; they had 
their prison clothing and nothing more. Their food, 
which had been scanty enough, and wretched in qual- 
ity, was reduced ; they were not allowed to exercise in 
the yard, in fact, they were not allowed to go outside 
their narrow cells on any account whatever. Life, 
under such conditions, was unbearable, and the men set 
about planning a revolt. 

“ It is better to be shot down at once and make an 
end of things, than endure this treatment," said one of 
them. 

“ Yes,” said another ; “ I’m ready for anything, no 
matter how desperate." 

Various plans were proposed. One suggested that 
each should watch his opportunity to strike an officer, 
and be shot or hanged for his offense ; but it was decided 
that this was impracticable, for the reason that oppor- 
tunities for doing so would be rare, and it would take a 
long time for the scheme to be carried out. Another 
proposed that they should tear up the benches, and use 
the planks as weapons with which to attack the soldiers, 
the attack to be made simultaneously in all parts of the 
prison, just as the doors were locked for the night. 
But the same objections were raised to this as to the 
previous plan. 

“ I have it !” exclaimed another. 

“ Yes ! what ?” 

“ Set fire to the prison and burn ourselves and our 
guards together. The building is so watersoaked by the 
rains and by the ooze from the marshy grounds it stands 
on, that if it burns at all it will burn very slowly. The 
guards can easily put out the fire, or, if they do not, they 
can stand by and see us roasted, while they stand ready 
to capture us in case we escape from the flames.” 


254 


THE SIBERIAN EXILES. 


The proposition did not meet with favor, partly on 
account of its impracticability and partly because of the 
horror possessed by the whole human race at such a 
form of death. Of all the savage methods of taking life 
that by burning at the stake is regarded as the most 
fiendish. 

There was a pause, and at length Dubayeff spoke. 
His face was pale, and it was easy to see that his 
words were momentous. 

“ Brothers,” said he, “ we are at our last extremity. 
There is only one mode of remonstrance left. ” 

He paused again. No one spoke. It was two or 
three minutes before he continued. 

“We have nothing left but the hunger strike.” 

The rest assented, and the word was passed through 
the other cells, partly by means of their voices and 
partly through the aid of the knock alphabet. The pro- 
posal was agreed to, and the hunger strike was to begin 
on the following morning. 

Pushkin suggested that a last opportunity should be 
given to the commandant to cease his barbarity, and he 
volunteered to be the spokesman for the despairing 
men. So, when the guard came on its next round of 
inspection, he told the officer in command that he had 
a petition to make on behalf of all the prisoners, and 
not on his own account. 

In a little while the officer returned, accompanied by 
two soldiers, and Pushkin was escorted to the command- 
ant’s room. The commandant looked up from some 
papers he was examining and gruffly said : 

“ Well, what do you want ?” 

“ We ask that your Excellency will remove the parti- 
tions that were recently put up in the kameras, and 
restore us to the conditions under which we lived 


THE HUNGER STRIKE. 


255 


before the attempt to escape was made. We feel that 
we have been sufficiently punished for violating the 
rules of the prison, and will give our word of honor 
that no further attempt to escape will be made while 
we are here.” 

“ That’s what you want, is it ?” said the commandant 
with a sneer. “ Go back, and say that the prison con- 
ditions will not be changed, and every man will be 
flogged if another petition is sent here. The one who 
brings it will be the first for the flogging, and get 
a thousand blows of the plet.” 

Pushkin was taken back to the cell, where he repeated 
the words of the commandant. Then the word passed 
about, and it was agreed that the hunger strike should 
begin on the following morning. 

The golodofka, or “ hunger strike,” is an attempt of 
prisoners to bring their authorities to terms by refusing 
food and dying of hunger unless their demands are 
met. It is the last resort in Russian prisons ; when 
everything else has failed, the golodofka succeeds. 

Our masters are a strange race of men,” said Dub- 
ayeff to Pushkin, as they were discussing the subject 
one day. Though they have abandoned the death 
penalty in the Civil Code, and are constantly boasting 
of their humanity in this regard, they permit men 
and women to be hanged or shot by order of courts- 
martial. They boast of having abolished the knout, 
but they flog and kill with the plet ; they put men 
in solitary confinement, and let them die a lingering 
death in the fortresses of St. Petersburg, and in other 
prisons ; they kill us with scanty food and wretched 
lodgings that they would consider unfit for a dog or 
pig ; they see us perish of consumption, fever and 
other diseases, which any man knows are caused by 


m 


THE SIBERIAN EXILES. 


the conditions into which we are forced ; they drive 
us into the winter’s cold with insufficient clothing ; 
see us devoured by vermin ; deprive us of employ- 
ment ; will not allow us to read, write or study, and 
so force us into insanity ; and torture us in other 'ways 
that shorten our lives. But when prisoners have to 
starve themselves as a protest against extreme cruelty, 
they have invariably carried their point.” 

On the morning following the making of the agree- 
ment the food that was brought to the prisoners in the 
cells, or kameras, was handed back untouched to the 
warders. The men sat, or lay, on the sleeping-benches, 
and talked with one another in low tones. Some had 
already shown signs of insanity, and as hunger made 
itself manifest, the signs increased. Their language 
was incoherent ; some babbled incessantly, while others 
became moody and spoke but rarely. 

The warders reported to the commandant that the 
prisoners refused their food. 

“They’ll be tired of that soon enough,” was his com- 
ment. “ Take it to them regularly, at the exact time 
they’ve been accustomed to get it.” 

His orders were obeyed, but the men remained firm. 
All that day, and the next, and the next, and still they 
refused. 

Then the commandant became alarmed. He sent an 
officer to say to the prisoners that if they would end the 
hunger strike at once, he would see what could be done 
towards meeting their demands. 

This was a vague promise, to which the men listened 
in silence. The officer did as he was ordered and 
retired to make his report. At the next service of food 
the prisoners saw that the articles were of better quality 


THE HUNGER STRIKE. 


257 


than usual, and more liberal in quantity, but they 
refused as before. 

On the fifth day the commandant came in person 
and offered to telegraph to the Minister of the Interior 
in their behalf, provided they would declare the strike 
at an end, and receive the food which was waiting for 
them in the prison kitchen. He addressed himself 
directly to Pushkin, evidently recognizing him as the 
leader, and assured him that there had never been any 
intention of flogging the entire party, or himself, the 
threat having been made merely for the purpose of 
frightening them into obedience to orders. 

“ I have no authority to act for my comrades in this 
matter,” Pushkin replied. “ I did not suggest the 
hunger strike, and therefore cannot advise that it be 
stopped.” 

“ Who did suggest it ?” asked the commandant, in a 
tone of anger. 

“ I must decline to answer Your Excellency's ques- 
tion,” replied the prisoner. Then the commandant 
turned on his heel and left the kamera. 

He immediately telegraphed to the minister that the 
political prisoners had made a hunger strike. He asked 
for instructions, and stated in the customary brevity of 
the telegraph, the demands that had been made. He 
waited anxiously for the minister’s response, which did 
not come until just as the sun was setting behind the 
hills that enclosed the valley of the Kara river. 



CHAPTER XXVr. 

PROGRESS OF THE HUNGER STRIKE. 

“ I very much doubt if there will be a favorable 
response from the Minister of the Interior,” said Dubay- 
eff to Pushkin, when it became known that the com- 
mandant had telegraphed to the capital for instructions. 

** Why so ?” the latter asked. 

“ Because the party of action has been creating con- 
siderable trouble of late, and the ministry is very much 
irritated. At any rate, this is the time when active 
measures were to be undertaken, and we may hear of 
them any day.” 

“ What were they intending to do ?” 

To this interrogation Dubayeff did not give a direct 
answer. Pushkin changed his question to an inquiry as 
to what the party of action expected to accomplish in 
the- work in which it was engaged. 

“ We are divided in our opinions,” was the reply, 
“ and probably no ten men could be brought together 
who would agree exactly as to the objects we wish 
to attain. In a general way, we want the government 
to be based on representation, rather than upon tyranny ; 
the people must have a voice in the plan of government, 
[258] 




PROGRESS OF THE HUNGER STRIKE. 


259 


and to this end they ask that the provinces, through 
the existing zemtsvos, or provincial assemblies, should 
be allowed to send representatives to a national assem- 
bly, in which the public welfare may be discussed, and 
suggestions made for the improvement of the condition 
of the hundred millions of inhabitants of which Russia 
can boast. 

“ For a long time,” continued Dubayeff, “ we acted 
without hostility to the government, and sought to 
bring about reforms without violence of any kind. 
Our young men and women ‘ went to the people 
•they sought to educate the peasants, and for this pur- 
pose they went among them in their villages and work- 
shops, instructed them in the schools, established ‘ cir- 
cles,’ or debating societies, and acted in the most open 
manner in doing what they did not think would meet 
with any objection. They were patriotic in the fullest 
sense of the word ; they wanted to see Russia take 
a place among the civilized nations, with an intelligent 
population, ruled by men who could be respected 
throughout the empire, and have the confidence .and 
friendship of all their subjects.” 

“ And how were these efforts met ?” 

“ If an official in the service of the government ven- 
tured to suggest the formation of an assembly, in which 
its affairs could be discussed, he was removed from 
office and sent to a distant part of the empire, there to be 
watched by the police who had him under strict surveil- 
lance. The young men and women who had gone 
among the people were required to give up their work 
of teaching ignorant peasants how to read and write ; 
some were allowed to return to their homes or leave the 
country, but the majority of them were arrested and sent 
into exdle. Arrests were without open charges • exile 


260 


THE SIBERIAN EXILES. 


was without trial, but by the far more expeditious 
* administrative process,’ the same which brought you 
to Siberia.” 

“ Was this before the party had shown any violence 
toward the Czar and his officials Pushkin asked. 

“ Yes, not a hand had been lifted against anybody, nor 
was there any intention of violence. There is a mis- 
taken impression, which the government has taken 
pains to spread as widely as possible, that all Liberals 
are terrorists. The majority of the Liberals are opposed 
to violence altogether ; a small minority adopted the 
policy of violence, but they only did so after it had been 
clearly shown that the government would not grant 
reforms through peaceful means. There was no vio- 
lence until after hundreds of liberals had been sent to 
Siberia, for no other reason than that they wished well 
for their country, and hoped to see the ignorant mass of 
the population educated up to the ability of helping to 
govern themselves. Some of those who were not 
arrested and banished became angry at the treatment 
of their friends and determined upon revenge.” 

The reader who is familiar with the history of the 
troubles in Russia during the last twenty years, will 
remember that the work of violence began with the assas- 
sination of General Mezzentseff, Chief of Gendarmes, in 
St. Petersburg, in 1878, and was followed by several other 
assassinations or attempts at murder in the next two or 
three years, culminating in the death of the emperor 
Alexander II., in March, 1881. Before the first of the 
assassinations, the prisons of Russia were crowded with 
the victims of arrest, and hundreds had been sent to 
Siberia without trial. 

These people were Nihilists,” is a natural comment 
upon the foregoing paragraph. 


PROGRESS OF THE HUNGER STRIKE. 


261 


The term “ Nihilist is one that is not acknowledged by 
any of the Russian liberals. It was invented by the nov- 
elist Turgenef to describe a character in one of his sto- 
ries ; it was caught up by the government and the anti-lib- 
erals and applied indiscriminately. According to them it 
includes all classes of liberals ; it may apply to some of 
them, such as the murderers of the emperor and their 
special sympathizers, but is an undeserved stigma upon 
all those who have opposed violence from the beginning 
and still oppose it as vigorously as ever. 

“ I was never a terrorist,” continued Dubayeflf, and 
deprecated every kind of violence. But you see that 
made no difference in my case ; this is my second visit 
to Siberia, and there are many others in this very prison 
who believe with me, and their actions have always been 
consistent with their beliefs. 

The death of the emperor Alexander 11. was decreed 
by the terrorists, because they believed that a notable 
example should be given that all the world would talk 
about. They had no special hatred for hhii ; it was the 
imperial system that they attacked, and as he was its 
representative, it was his fate to be killed. And in kill- 
ing him they set back the cause of reform, instead of ad- 
vancing it. He was the friend of reform ; he liberated 
the serfs, established trial by jury, and did other things 
for the good of the country. He received a petition 
asking for freedom of the press, and other liberties, such 
as are found in most other countries, and not only 
received it, but took it under consideration.” 

“ That was just before his death, was it not ?” 

“ Yes, he drew up and signed a proclamation to 
the people, telling them he intended to summon a 
national assembly to take steps for forming a constitu- 


262 


THE SIBERIAN EXILES. 


tional government. He signed it on the 12 th of March, 
1881.” 

“ That was the day before his death.” 

“Just one day before his death,” said Dubayeff, in a 
tone of sadness. “ The proclamation would have been 
issued on the 14th of March if Alexander had lived. But 
he was assassinated by the terrorists, and thus the hopes 
of the liberals were doomed to disappointment. 

“ If any men should be termed Nihilists,” he con- 
tinued, “ they are those who have held back the cause 
of reform by the murder of Alexander Nicolaievitch, 
and by other murders that have disgraced the cause. 
And the worst of the business is, that the regicides 
really acted from honorable motives, and thought they 
were doing good work for their country. They were 
carried awa}^ with the idea that a notable example 
must be made to call the attention of the whole world, 
out of Russia as well as in it, to the abuses of despotism 
and the sufferings of the people. They argued that 
nothing short of this would answer ; it was impossible 
to control them, and you know the result.” 

“ Wasn’t it possible for the moderate liberals to per- 
suade them to hope for reform through peaceable 
means Pushkin asked. 

“ That was tried in several instances, but it failed 
every time. And the men who undertook to convince 
the terrorists that reform was possible without violence, 
and who tried to get them to abandon that policy, were 
sent to Siberia in consequence. The mayor of Khar- 
koff, and other prominent men, were among the victims 
of the government, who punished them because they 
tried to induce the terrorists to desist from carrying out 
their project. They caused the Zemtsvo of Kharkoff 
to send a petition to the Crown, in which were stated 


PROGRESS OF THE HUNGER STRIKE. 


263 


the grievances of the people, and respectfully asking 
that they be investigated. That was their offense, and 
for it they were exiled to Siberia, and so were prominent 
men in other provinces who did the same thing.” 

The conversation was interrupted by a rumor through 
the prison that the commandant had received orders 
from St. Petersburg relative to the treatment of the 
prisoners who had made the hunger strike. Exactly 
how it came no one could or would say, but it came as 
do many other rumors from the outside world, through 
the medium of the guards. 

The conduct of the party of action, to which Dubayeff 
referred at the time the hunger strike was inaugurated, 
was as follows : 

A paper called The Will of the People was exten- 
sively circulated. It was in every sense a revolutionary 
sheet, as it breathed hostility to the government in every 
line, and discussed the reforms which were demanded in 
no mistaken tone. The paper was printed abroad, 
sometimes in London and sometimes in Switzerland, 
and was smuggled into the country, packed in merchan- 
dise, wrapped around parcels, and in a hundred other 
ways. Now and then a printing-office was established 
in a cellar in St. Petersburg or Moscow, and the print- 
ing was done there ; but sooner or later the police made 
a descent and arrested all persons connected with the 
establishment. The arrest was speedily followed by 
exile, and almost always without a trial ; to be found in 
the office of a clandestine press was sufficent evidence 
of guilt to render a trial quite unnecessary. 

Attempts had been made on the life of the Czar, and 
also on the lives of several men high in authority. The 
Czar was virtually a close prisoner in his palace ; he 
could not venture out of doors without a powerful 


264 


THE SIBERIAN EXILES. 


guard, and whenever he did go out, the streets in every 
direction were virtually closed to the public. Assem- 
blages on the corners were forbidden ; there was a 
hedge of troops lining both sides of every street through 
which the emperor passed, and his safety was further 
secured by his carriage often taking a different route 
from the one that had been made public. 

All his personal attendants were more or less under 
suspicion, and the autocrat of all the Russias did not 
know whom to trust. So great was the dread that he 
would be poisoned, that all his food was prepared under 
the eye of a high official, who literally stood over the 
cook and watched his every movement. When a meal 
was brought to table it was necessary for this same 
high official to come forward arid partake of each dish 
before it was served to the Czar. Only in this way 
could safety from arsenic, strychnine, or other deadly 
ingredient be assured. 

While stepping from his carriage one day, the Minis- 
ter of the Interior was greeted by the explosion of a hand- 
grenade which fell at his feet. Happily for his safety 
none of the fragments touched him, though they buried 
themselves in the side of the carriage and wounded 
two attendants who were at his side. And this was the 
day on which the Minister received the information 
that the prisoners at the Kara settlement had started a 
hunger strike. 

More pressing matters demanded his attention, and 
the telegram was placed on the table to wait its turn for 
consideration. When he reached it, the Minister thought 
a few moments on the subject, and then answered : 

“ Let the strike continue, but use your discretion." 

This virtually placed the power in the hands of the 


PllOGRESS OF THE HUNGER STRIKE. 


266 


commandant, though he read between the lines that 
the Minister was not relenting in any of the harsh 
orders previously given relative to the Kara prison. 
That the prisoners should suffer was a foregone conclu- 
sion ; the commandant was to see that they did not 
carry matters too far. 

He waited until the next day and then went in person 
to make another appeal to the prisoners. 

“If you will bring the strike to an end this moment,” 
said he, “ I will do all in my power to mitigate your 
restrictions, and make the rules as favorable as possible. 
No man shall be punished for what has occurred in the 
past, and the efforts to escape shall be wholly forgotten.” 

It was evident to the prisoners that the ministry had 
not relented, as the offer of the commandant was not at 
all definite. He proposed to do “ all in his power,” which 
might be much, little, or nothing at all. Their answer 
was ready, without any consultation on their part, and 
was in the negative. 

It would have been almost an impossibility for them 
to get together to consult upon any subject, as all were 
greatly weakened by their self-starvation. More than 
half their number were unable to stand, some could not 
speak, some were delirious and raved incessantly, but 
their ravings were scarcely audible beyond their narrow 
kameras in consequence of their lack of strength. One 
man, whose insanity at first took a violent turn, was 
now unable to articulate above a whisper, and the 
whisper was so weak that more than half his words 
would have been indistinct to a listener close by his side. 

Every day the surgeon passed through the kameras 
and made a careful inspection of every “ case.” On the 
ninth day he reported to the commandant that several 
of the prisoners were so low that they might die at any 


266 


THE SIBERIAN EXILES. 


time ; on the tenth day two were reduced to a condition 
of insensibility, and others were falling into a comatose 
state from which they could be roused only by hypo- 
dermic application of stimulants, and by giving them 
food by force. 

Not wishing to take the responsibility of ending the 
strike, although it was in his power to do so, the com- 
mandant telegraphed to the Minister of the Interior as 
follows : 

Golodofka continues, several deaths imminent.” 

He waited anxiousl^^ for the reply, which came, as did 
its predecessor, near the close of the day. It was in 
these words : 

“ Concede demands. Prevent news of strike becom- 
ing known.” 

Immediately, the commandant went to the prison and 
told the sufferers that he had received orders from St. 
Petersburg that gave him full power to act. He 
promised that the request made through Pushkin before 
the inauguration of the hunger strike should be granted ; 
the partitions in the kameras would be taken down on the 
following morning, the prisoners might exercise in the 
yard during the day and would only be locked up at 
night, their books would be restored to them, they could 
communicate with their friends as before, there should 
be no further punishment on account of the escapes, 
and in every way they were to be under the same con- 
ditions of existence as before the escapes were discov- 
ered. He would make two conditions only : the first 
was the one they had themselves offered, that they 
would pledge their word of honor not to make any new 
attempts to run away, and the second was that they 


PROGRESS OF THE HUNGER STRIKE. 


267 


should not inform anyone outside the prison as to what 
had occurred. In other words, they were not to tell of 
the golodofka and its results. 

This last condition was rejected, and for a while it 
seemed as though the hunger strike would continue. 
Finding the prisoners determined in their resistance, 
the commandant yielded the point, and the protest by 
self-starvation was declared at an end. 

All night the surgeon and his assistants were busy in 
endeavoring to save the sufferers from further torture 
through hunger. Stimulants were applied, food was 
given sparingly, the worst cases were removed to the 
hospital, the kameras were ventilated as much as it was 
possible to ventilate them, and on the following morn- 
ing the obnoxious partitions were removed. 



CHAPTER XXVII. 

THE FREE COMMAND. 

The skill and care of the surgeon was rewarded by 
the recovery of all the prisoners, though several had 
very narrow escapes from death. Among these was 
Pushkin ; he had held up until the end, retaining his 
faculties throughout ; at the final visit of the command- 
ant he was able to talk coherently, though scarcely 
above a whisper, but when the decision was announced 
that the request of the prisoners was granted and they 
would take food, he fell off into a complete faint and 
the hospital attendant who had him in charge thought 
he had expired. 

Hypodermic injections of brandy gave strength to 
his almost imperceptible pulse, and the food which was 
judiciously given under medical supervision had the 
desired effect. He was carried to the hospital and 
placed in a bed, and there he remained for several days^ 
scarcely able to move. By degrees he regained his 
strength; in due time the surgeon certified that he 
was sufficiently restored to be sent from the hospital, 
and he was accordingly returned to the prison. 

For some time after this occurred, the prisoners had 
no just cause to complain of their treatment. Their 
food was better and more abundant than before the 
[268] 


THE FKEE COMMAND. 


269 


escapes were made, and the commandant was faithful 
to his promise that the former conditions should be 
restored. They were allowed to communicate with 
their friends as before, all their letters passing under 
the eye of the commandant or one of his subordinates 
to make sure that they contained no allusion to the 
golodofka. 

We may gain a point,” said Dubayeff to Pushkin 
one day, “by notifying the commandant that we will 
not refer to the hunger strike. We may gain a point 
with him and shall not lose anything by it.” 

“ How do you make that out ?” queried the latter. 

“ This is the way of it,” Dubayeff replied. “ The hun- 
ger strike is already known to our friends in Kara outside 
the prison, and you may be sure they have sent news of 
it to Moscow and St. Petersburg. By this time every 
revolutionist in Russia has heard of it, if I am not 
greatly mistaken. The strike and its results are known 
by telegraph, you may be sure, and the details of the 
whole matter will reach our friends by mail.” 

“ In that case,” said Pushkin, “ we have no real occa- 
sion to allude to it.> I agree with you that a point can 
be made with the commandant by voluntarily acceding 
to his request.” 

There was a general consultation among the prison- 
ers, and it was agreed that Pushkin should again act as 
their spokesman. Since he was the bearer of an ojffer, 
instead of a demand, it was likely that he would be 
more civilly treated than on his previous visit. 

At the next change of guard, Pushkin said to the 
officer : 

“ Please say to His Excellency, that the prisoners 
have asked me to present a proposition to him on their 
behalf.” 


270 


THE SIBERIAN EXILES. 


Exactly what passed in the mind of His Excellency, 
when he heard the request, it is impossible to say, but 
he did not hesitate at receiving the embassador of those 
in his charge, Pushkin was escorted to the office of 
the commandant, and that official was noticeably less 
gruff in manner than at the previous visit. 

Instead of demanding, “ What do you want ?” he put 
his question in the words, What do you wish to say ?” 

“ Your Excellency demanded that we should not in- 
form our friends of the golodofka,” said Pushkin. “ We 
refused at the time, and Your Excellency did not press 
the condition." 

*‘Yes," said the commandant, in a tone of inquiry, 
as though he would say, “ What has that to do with 
your mission ?" 

“ My comrades have sent me to say that they respect 
Your Excellency’s demand," Pushkin answered. “ They 
have not informed their friends of the golodofka, and 
they will not do so. They give the same honorable 
promise that they did about attempting to escape." 

Doubtless the commandant was fully capable of see- 
ing the stroke of policy that his prisoners were endea- 
voring to make. He knew that the story of the 
hunger strike was already known outside the prison, as 
it was sure to have leaked out through the soldiers of 
the guard and the attendants at the hospital. But he 
was too good a diplomat to let Pushkin know his 
thoughts on the subject ; he believed, with Talleyrand, 
that language was given to man for the concealment 
of thought. 

“Very well," he answered, with a slight nod. “Is 
there anything that the prisoners desire ?" 

“ Nothing, Your Excellency. I came as the bearer 
of this offer and not to bring a petition." 


THE FREE COMMAND. 


271 


“ Is there anything you wish to suggest ?’' 

“Nothing, Your Excellency. But if I might be 
allowed a suggestion, it would be that we may have 
some employment. If we could build a shed in the 
prison-yard, and have a carpenter’s bench with a few 
tools, and perhaps a few tools for blacksmithing, we 
should find it a great relief from idleness.” 

“ I will see what can be done,” was the reply, and 
this non-committal answer terminated the interview. 

Two or three days later some lumber was brought 
into the yard and the prisoners set about the construc- 
tion of a shed The principal tool of a Russian carpen- 
ter is a small axe, and with it he often accomplishes 
wonders. The axe serves often as plane, saw and 
chisel, in addition to performing the usual work of the 
axe in other lands. Houses may be wholly constructed 
with this tool ; very comfortable houses they often are, 
and a defiance to the rigors of winter. 

A certain number of axes was distributed to the pris- 
oners, but they were carefully counted two or three 
times every day and at night were handed over to the 
guard. It was against the rules for a prisoner to be 
intrusted with a weapon, and certainly this innocent 
tool of industry would make a formidable article of 
offense in the hands of a determined man. The pris- 
oners were under promise not to attempt to escape and 
it was not feared they would undertake it, but the com- 
mandant rightly judged that they must not be placed 
under temptation. 

The shed was soon in place, and then the prisoners 
were supplied with materials, which they fashioned 
into chairs, tables, bureaus and other things that might 
be sold in the neighboring town. Unfortunately the 
town was small and the market was restricted, but 


272 


THE SIBERIAN EXILES. 


it was made to yield something. The same was the 
case with the blacksmith’s shop which they were 
allowed to establish, but in this case, as in that of the 
other, all the tools were carefully enumerated daily and 
handed over to the guard at nightfall. Every ounce of 
iron was accounted for ; the iron given out was carefully 
weighed, and so were the articles into which it was 
fashioned. Had there been a disposition to secrete it 
for future violations of the prison rules, there would 
have been little chance to do so. 

All through Russia the same care is taken to prevent 
the possession by a prisoner of anything that may be 
used as a weapon. When a female prisoner obtains 
permission to sew, she must account for every needle 
intrusted to her, and she is not allowed to have scissors 
in her possession. The scissors are kept by her guard, 
and when she has occasion to cut the material on which 
she is working, she must call the guard and indicate 
where the cutting is to be made. He is supposed to cut 
the material himself, but if kindly disposed he allows her 
to handle the scissors, though he stands ready to snatch 
them from her at any instant. Scissors in the hands of 
a woman are regarded as dangerous in two ways ; she 
may use them as a weapon against her jailors, or 
for stabbing herself to death if she has resolved upon 
ending her troubles by suicide. 

Life in the Kara prison as it was afte r the hunger 
strike is not absolutely unendurable, and the prisoners 
did not give their keepers any cause to complain 
of their conduct. They were permitted to improve the 
condition of their kameras ; they bought various articles 
of bedding and clothing, and if the place could have 
been freed of the vermin that infested it, much of its 
horror would have disappeared. Hot water and lime 


THE FREE COMMAND. 


273 


were occasionally applied to the walls, floors and sleep- 
ing-benches, and the evil was somewhat mitigated, but 
vermin increase and multiply like other living things 
and only a short time was required to restore their 
numbers. 

“ It is not imprisonment under proper sanitary condi- 
tions that we complain of,” said Dubayeff, “ but the 
deliberate torture to which we are subjected. Men who 
conspire against the government take Chance in their 
hands, and they expect to be punished if they are caught 
and convicted of their offenses. Justice may be hard ; 
it may sentence us to death or to exile for life, but as 
long as it is justice we have no right to murmur. If we 
are convicted after a fair trial, which follows speedily 
upon our arrest, we must take our fate as we find it, 
and he would be a coward who complains, even though 
his sentence may be death on the scaffold. 

“ Though we may be the worst offenders, we are 
entitled to humane treatment. We do not expect choice 
food, but we have a right to receive what will support 
life, and to have that food clean and properly prepared. 
We ask and expect to be treated as well as a farmer 
treats his cattle and pigs, but you know for yourself 
that we are not.” 

True,” answered Pushkin, “ but the consciousness of 
having deserved his punishment does not lessen a pris- 
oner’s desire to escape and be free again.” 

“ Not by any means,” was the reply. Every man 
under restraint, no matter how just it may be, longs to 
escape, and the subject is rarely out of his thoughts. 
How much more is it present with him when he is inno- 
cent of any crime, has been kept for years, maybe, in 
prison without being allowed to know the charge against 
him, and is finally sent into exile without trial, solely 


274 


THE SIBEEIAN EXILES. 


Upon the order of the Minister of the Interior, who can- 
not possibly have any knowledge of a twentieth of the 
cases upon which he acts so summarily.” 

The reader may accept the foregoing as the grievance 
of many thousands of Russian subjects at this very day. 
Arrest upon suspicion only, and often without tangible 
foundation for suspicion, imprisonment without charges 
being made known to the accused, trials where no 
defense is allowed, or more frequently no trials what- 
ever, but sentences under arbitrary order, long deten- 
tions, solitary confinement under conditions that often 
cause insanity or bodily ailments, exile accompanied by 
great physical suffering, intentional exposure to inclem- 
encies of weather, confinement in prisons reeking with 
;seeds of disease and swarming with vermin, improper 
and insufficient food, scanty clothing, heavy chains, 
flogging and other cruelties, these are the things of 
which complaint is made. No one has a right to expect 
that a prison will resemble a palace and abound in 
luxuries, but he certainly has a right to expect that he 
will not be treated worse than the brutes, no matter 
what may have been his offense. 

The wives and children of some of the prisoners were 
living in Kara, and formed a part of the Free Command 
which has been mentioned in a previous chapter. 
These men were specially exemplary in their conduct, 
as this was one of the conditions on which they were 
released from prison conditions, and allowed to live 
with their families in the Free Command. 

Anxiously they counted the days when their prison 
term would be ended and permission granted for them 
to live outside. According to the regulations, they were 
to be under strict surveillance ; they would be obliged 
to report daily to the police, perhaps several times a 


THE FEEE COMMAND. 


275 


day, and at any moment the police might visit their 
houses and take note of anything they observed there. 
Any infraction of the rules rendered them liable to be 
returned to prison. Disagreeable as vrere the restric- 
tions under which they lived, they were far more accept- 
able than life within prison walls, and the police rarely 
had occasion :o complain of violations. 

Life in the Free Command is a sort of probation for 
the convict who is to be sent, after the probationary 
term is ended, to become a colonist in some inhospitable 
part of Siberia. To a man who has been followed or 
accompanied by his family, it is a boon of the highest 
value ; it is welcome, of course, to the man without 
family, as a relief from chains and prison conditions, but 
in many cases it leads to demoralization. The criminal 
part of the Free Command is much given to drunken- 
ness and social disorder ; the political prisoners refuse 
to associate with the criminals and hold themselves 
strickly aloof ; but not infrequently despair makes one 
of them desperate and he falls into evil ways. 

One day it became known that in the beginning of the 
following week a selection was to be made of prisoners 
assigned to the Free Command. It was rumored that 
the selection would be a large one, not on account of 
any special feeling of kindness on the part of the 
officers, but because the prison was needed for a convoy 
of hard-labor convicts that was expected very shortly. 

But the next day come rumors of an occurrence which 
filled every heart with indignation and fear. Event 
followed event in rapid succession ; the last in the list 
was a terrible tragedy, terrible even for the wilds of 
Siberia, with all the horrors contained in the history of 
that dreaded land. 



CHAPTER XXVIII. 

IVAN BANISHED TO THE ARCTIC CIRCLE. 

Dr. Shulmann and Ivan Pushkin formed a close 
friendship in the little town where they were domiciled 
together. As the ispravnik was on unpleasant terms with 
the doctor, the former very soon formed a dislike for the 
latter’s young friend, and kept a careful watch in the 
hope of catching him in a violation of the rules, so that 
due punishment could be inflicted. Ivan was equally 
watchful to avoid giving an opportunity for complaint, 
and, therefore, carried out every regulation to the 
letter. 

At noon every day, he was required to report in per- 
son to the police. He was careful to time his move- 
ments, so that he should be at the official bureau a few 
minutes before the designated hour, regardless of the 
weather or of any occupation in which he was en- 
gaged. 

One day, while on his way to make his report, he was 
startled by an outcry of the people on the street, com- 
bined with feminine screams. A horse attached to a 
telyega, containing two women, had become frightened, 
[276] 


IVAN BANISHED TO THC ARCTIC CIRCLE. 2Y7 

and was running away, dragging the vehicle after him 
at a terrific pace. One of the women fainted and fell to 
the bottom of the telyega, and the other was screaming 
with all the power of her lungs. 

As Ivan saw the horse approaching, he made ready 
to spring forward and seize the runaway by the bridle. 
He succeeded in catching the bridle and stopping the 
frightened animal, but he was severely bruised in 
accomplishing what he did, and his clothes were badly 
torn, as he was dragged for quite a distance, and almost 
thrown under the wheels of the telyega. He assisted 
in lifting out the fainting woman and helping the other 
to the ground, and then he resumed his journey to the 
police station. 

He arrived several minutes past the hour when he 
should have reported. The ispravnik was in the police 
office when Ivan arrived, and as the young man made 
his appearance the official glanced at the clock, and 
then at the clothing of the exile. 

“ You have violated the regulations,” said the isprav- 
nik, severely, “ and it will be necessary to punish you.” 

“ I have been delayed by a work of humanity,” Ivan 
responded. “ I was stopping a runaway horse, and sav- 
ing two women from possible death.” 

“ A very plausible story !” said the ispravnik, in a 
sneering tone. 

“ It can be proved by several witnesses,” the young 
man answered, and I can also prove by them that my 
clothes were torn while I was clinging to the horse.” 

“ Is there anything in the regulations that says an 
exile may stop runaway horses ?” the ispravnik asked. 

“ There is nothing I am aware of that forbids it,” Ivan 
replied. 

“ We will see about that,” said the official. Then he 


278 


THE SIBERIAN EXILES. 


turned to the regulations, and pointed out a clause in 
section 24, in which administrative exiles are forbidden 
to exercise any public activity. 

Stopping a runaway horse in the principal street of a- 
town in mid-day, certainly requires an exercise of public 
activity, but it is doubtful if the framers of the Code 
ever intended this particular clause to be interpreted as 
the ispravnik chose to construe it. Ivan suggested as 
much to the official, but was brought up sharply with 
an order to hold his tongue or it might be worse for him. 

Silent, but indignant, he stood in front of the isprav- 
nik, and was glad when he was told to go. He went 
straight home and told Dr. Shulmann what had occurred. 

“ The scoundrel means mischief,” said the doctor, 
“and you can now understand why I thought him 
capable of calling me to attend his sick child and then 
punishing me for violating the regulations. You will 
hear from him before many hours, or at all events, as 
soon as he can communicate with the governor of the 
province.” 

Dr. Shulmann’s prediction was verified. The isprav- 
nik informed the governor that the exile, Ivan Pushkin, 
son of a political convict, who had been sent to the Kara 
mines, was guilty of “ pernicious public activity,” and 
had sought to obtain undue influence over certain lo3^al 
subjects of the Czar, then residing in that town. His 
acts were “ a menace to public peace and order,” (Sec- 
tion 28 of the regulations) and the ispravnik recom- 
mended that he be sent to reside in a Yakut village in 
the northern part of the province, beyond the Arctic 
circle. 

The governor acted upon the suggestion of the isprav- 
nik, and in due time, Ivan was exiled to the place which 
the ispravnik designated. Exile in a village of Siberian 


IVAN BANISHED TO THE ARCTIC CIRCLE, 


2T9 


peasants is bad enough, but it is a hundred times worse 
among the Yakuts or Tungusians. 

These are the aboriginal inhabitants of Siberia. 
They are mostly nomads or wanderers, moving from 
place to place to catch fish and fur-bearing animals, 
and to find food for their reindeer, which constitute 
their only wealth. They live in yourts or tents ; the 
summer yourt is made of the skins of animals*, stretched’ 
upon poles, like the tents of the American Indians, 
while their winter yourts are built of logs, poles and 
earth, so that they bear a strong resemblance to tents. 
The summer yourt is entered at the side like an ordin- 
ary tent, but the winter yourt is entered through a 
hole in the roof, which serves alike for doorway and 
chimney. 

Imagine a man of refinement sent to live among the 
lowest tribes of Indians on the Western plains of the 
United States, and the reader can have a fair idea of 
what exile must be among the Yakuts and Tunguse. 
And it was exile of this sort that had been decreed to 
an educated and refined young Russian for ** exercising 
public activity.” 

“ Existence did not seem worth having,” said Ivan, 

“ and many times I seriously contemplated putting an 
end to it ; only the thought of my parents, and my 
brother and sister, caused me to stay my hand. The 
Yakuts had orders to keep me constantly in sight, lest 
I might escape. Whenever I stepped out of doors I was 
followed, and not a moment was I allowed to be alone. 
In the yourts I was obliged to mingle with the whole 
family, men, women, children and dogs ; the air was 
stifling and foul, what with the lack of ventilation, and 
the fires that were constantly burning in the middle of 
the circular space which formed the interior. 


280 


THE SIBERIAN EXILES. 


“ Nothing but extreme hunger could induce me to eat 
of the native food, which was more repulsive than what 
was served to us at the etapes along the great road when 
we came to Siberia. When I could get raw fish I ate it 
in preference to anything else, as it certainly had the 
merit of cleanliness, but when fish were not to be had, 
we lived upon the flesh of the reindeer. And it was the 
way of cooking this flesh that disgusted me, and made 
me loathe my food. 

“ No part of the deer is wasted. They cook the flesh, 
entrails and feet, in the same pot, and with them the 
halfldigested moss that they find in the stomach of the 
deer. This moss they consider a special delicacy, while 
I always regarded it with horror ; it reminded me of the 
old adage, ‘ There’s no accounting for tastes.’ 

“ At first I was regarded with suspicion, but after a 
while established friendly relations with my custodians 
as I learned something of their language. The head 
man of the little village was a decent sort of fellow, and 
wanted me to instruct him so that he could read Russian ; 
I would have done so gladly for the sake of occupation, 
had it not been for the requirement in the 24th article of 
the Code, that administrative exiles must not engage in 
any kind of pedagogic work. To instruct a Yakut in 
the Russian alphabet, would be a violation of the law, 
and I might be sent further north, perhaps into the 
Arctic Ocean, or to the Pole. Who knows ? 

“ I used to accompany the natives when they went to 
trap fur-bearing animals. Of course there was nothing 
that I could teach them in the way of wood- craft, in 
which they are adepts, but there were some points in 
mechanics of which they were ignorant, and I was able 
to show them. Then I built a regular ladder for them 
to use in descending through the roof into the yourt in 


IVAN BANISHED TO THE ARCTIC CIRCLE. 281 

place of the notched stick, to which they were accus- 
tomed. I planned a winter yourt which was something 
like a regular house, as it had a door for entering it, and 
tliere was a chimney opposite the door, so that the place 
was not filled with smoke. I wanted to put the door on 
the level of the ground, but to this they would not listen. 
I put it about half way up one side of the yourt, and 
made an entry or vestibule out of some reindeer skins, 
and then I made a sloping walk from the entry to the 
floor of the yourt, so that the ladder in either its old or 
new form was not required. In this way 1 secured the 
friendvShip of all of them, and especially of the old and 
infirm ones, for whom climbing was a matter of difficulty. 

They rewarded my efforts by giving me clothing 
like what they wore themselves. It was made of 
reindeer skin, and consisted of a shirt or frock of thin 
skin from which the hair had been scraped, trowsers 
with the hair still on and worn outside, and akukh- 
lankah, or frock, which was put on over the head just 
like a civilized shirt, and tied tight around the neck. 
The trowsers were kept in place by a wide thong 
around the waist, and I had boots made of deerskin, the 
thickest part being used for the soles. When dressed 
in these garments I looked very much like a native, and 
the people seemed pleased when I adopted their cos- 
tume. I laid my old clothing away very carefully to 
keep it safe against the time when I should be allowed 
to go back to live among the Russians again. I vowed 
that I would never show any more public activity by 
stopping a runaway horse, even if the ispravnik him- 
self was in the telyega and in danger of having his neck 
broken. 

“ There was no mail communication with the place 
where I lived, and so there was no way in which 1 could 


‘J82 


THE SIBERIAN EXILES. 


send or receive letters. I had been consigned to the 
care of these natives ‘ until called for,’ as a parcel may 
be left in a store-house, and nobody could tell when I 
might be wanted by my masters, the police. All they 
knew was that I might be sent for at any time, and 
they were bound to deliver me alive or give conclusive 
proof that I was dead. I formed a hundred different 
plans of escape, but never one that was practicable. In 
spite of the friendly terms that had been established 
between us I was watched just as closely as ever, and 
never was I permitted to go out of sight.” 

While Ivan was thus leading a life of deprivation his 
friend Hartmann was passing a varied existence in the 
town to which he had been sent when they separated 
at Tomsk. He was under the same restrictions as 
those which controlled the movements and occupations 
of the administrative exiles whose condition we have 
studied, with the difference that his ispravnik was an 
intelligent and humane man, and not a brute and scoun- 
drel like the one who sent Dr. Shulmann to prison for an 
act of humanity, and secured Ivan’s banishment to a 
sub-Arctic village of aboriginals in the manner des- 
cribed. 

There were about twenty- five political exiles residing 
in the town, all of whom had been sent to Siberia with- 
out trial for terms varying from three to six years. 
They had not been charged with anything more serious 
than “untrustworthiness;” one was a friend of a man 
who had been found to have a copy of a contraband 
book in his possession; another had asked at a booksellers 
for a volume that had recently been placed under the 
ban of the censor, though it had formerly been allowed ; 
a third was the younger brother of a man who had given 
a copy of The Will of the People to a police spy ; a 


IVAN BANISHP:D to the ARCTIC CIRCLE. 


283 


fourth was acquainted with somebody who was under 
surveillance, and a fifth was the owner of a house 
which he rented to a provision-dealer, who was after- 
wards said to be intimate with members of the revolu- 
tionary party. Several were in total ignorance of the 
causes which brought them to Siberia ; they had 
repeatedly asked what were the charges against them, 
but had been unable to find out. 

Some of the exiles received money from their friends, 
others were able to earn something through the kind- 
ness of the ispravnik, who permitted them to engage in 
occupations which were really prohibited by the Code. 
They were allowed to teach music, drawing, arithmetic, 
grammar and other matters that would not trench upon 
politics, provided there was always some one present to 
bear witness that there was nothing seditious in the 
instruction they gave. History and geography they 
were forbidden to teach, and the same rule applied to 
political economy and certain branches of natural and 
other philosophy. 

Several exiles supported themselves by manual labor, 
in addition to receiving the monthly allowance of six 
rubles from the government, a sum that was totally 
inadequate to their wants. There were two young- 
married women who accompanied their husbands into 
exile, two others were married women who had them- 
selves been exiled, and in the same category were two 
girls, each under eighteen years of age, who had been 
sent to Siberia from the boarding-schools where they 
were being educated. What a frail structure must be 
the empire of the Czar, when it is imperilled by two 
school-girls yet in their teens ! 

At the suggestion of Hartmann, the exiles asked and 
obtained permission to cultivate a piece of government 


284 


THE SIBERIAN EXILES. 


land just outside the town, and as he knew more about 
the practical work of the farmer than did any one else 
of the party, he was made the chief. The farm more 
than realized their expectations ; they produced con- 
siderable quantities of garden vegetables, which they 
sold in the market-place or utilized for their own tables, 
and they had a goodly sized field of grain. Altogether, 
their lot was an easy one compared with that of many 
other exile communities ; they were on the best of 
terms with their ispravnik, gave him no trouble what- 
ever, and did not need to be watched. They gave him 
their word of honor that they would not take advantage 
of his leniency to run away ; he accepted their promise, 
and only required that they should report in person 
twice each week at the bureau of the police. Even this 
regulation was not really enforced, as he occasionally 
dropped in upon them when they were assembled in 
the evening, and allowed them to consider this call as 
the equivalent of a personal report at the bureau. 

They were allowed to receive books from their friends 
in European Russia, provided, of course, the}- were 
such as had been approved by the censor ; they clubbed 
their books together, and with the addition of some 
that had belonged to former exiles, and some that were 
presented by the officials or residents of the town, the 
Exiles Library numbered nearly three hundred volumes. 
Among the works in the library were Darwin’s De- 
scent of Man, Shakespeare’s plays, novels by various 
American, English, French and German authors, 
Macauley’s History of England, Grote’s History of 
Greece, and several histories of Russia by native authors. 
More than half the number of books were in Russian, 
but all the principal languages of Europe were repre- 
sented. 


IVAN BANISHED TO THE ARCTIC CIRCLE. 


285 


The exiles had little use for the Underground Mail, 
as their letters were not under rigid surveillance either 
going or coming, but occasionally they wished to write 
about matters that they were not willing to pass under 
an official eye, no matter how friendly it might be. At 
such times they had recourse to the ‘ Underground,’ and 
their communications came and went safely. They had 
not been required to make any ^promise concerning 
their correspondence, and therefore were violating no 
stipulation. 

But this comparatively Arcadian form of banishment 
could not last. In some way news was conveyed 
to the authorities at St. Petersburg that the kind- 
hearted ispravnik was robbing exile of its terrors, and 
turning it into something actually enviable. This was 
contrary to the will of the Czar and his ministry, and 
forthwith an order was issued for the removal of the 
ispravnik to a place where there were no exiles, and 
the appointment of one who would take care that the 
law was properly enforced. 



CHAPTER XXIX. 

A CHANGE OF RULERS. 

The blow fell without a moment’s warning. One day 
a new ispravnik arrived and exhibited his commission 
to him of the tender heart, together with an order for 
the latter to leave as soon as he could close his affairs, 
and proceed to take possession of his new post. 

The new arrival was to assume command imme- 
diately, and he did so within twenty hours of his 
arrival. The rumor quickly spread among the exiles, 
and they were greatly alarmed on hearing it. That 
evening they met at the house where four of them lived, 
and it will readily be understood that the change which 
was likely to affect them very deeply, was the only sub- 
ject of conversation. 

Their forebodings were gloomy, as they knew that 
their ispravnik was of a type not often found in Siberia. 
They surmised that the removal had been made on 
account of his kindness to them, and this thought 
touched them to the heart. 

While they were discussing his merits, and hoping, 
though against hope, that his successor might resemble 
him', there was a knock at the door. It announced the 
coming of their friend, whose sorrow was as great as 
[2861 


A CHANGE OF RULERS. 


m 

theirs at being obliged to go away. But military orders, 
the world over, leave no discretion to him who is ordered, 
and it was idle to think of securing a modification of 
the action of the government. 

“ I come to say farewell,” said he, “ and before leaving, 
I want to express my appreciation of your uniformly 
good conduct. I believed that you were honorable men 
and women ; the extent of your complicity in political 
troubles was no affair of mine ; but, whatever views you 
may entertain on the subject of the government of 
Russia, does not debar you from being honest and up- 
right. I have sought to treat you kindly, trust to your 
honor, and do everything in my power to enable you to 
support yourselves. I shall give you a thoroughly good 
character to my successor, and hope he will continue the 
policy which I have found so satisfactory.” 

Then one of his auditors spake a few words of fare- 
well, which drew tears from nearly all eyes in the room. 
Everyone realized that he was saying good-bye to one 
who had shown himself their friend, although he had 
not the slightest trace of sympathy with revolutionary 
ideas, and his loyalty to the imperial crown could not 
be questioned. 

With a warm clasp of the hand for each one of that 
sorrowing party, the ispravnik left the house and 
returned to his own residence. The next morning he 
was the ispravnik of no longer. 

He kept his promise to the exiles by giving them a 
thoroughly good character to his successor. He told 
how he had treated them, how they had acted with 
most scrupulous honor in all their relations with him, 
how they were liked by the citizens, and the enterprise 
they had shown in various ways. 

“ Should you carry out the same policy,” said he, in 


288 


THPJ SIBERIAN EXILES. 


closing, “ I am entirely sure that you will never regret 
it. It will save you a great deal of trouble in governing 
them, to have them do the most of the governing, so 
far as they are concerned, without requiring any help 
from you.” 

The other made a non-committal reply, and said he 
could not settle upon any policy until he thoroughly 
understood the situation. But, for the present, he would 
leave matters unchanged, or, at any rate, as far as he 
could do so consistent with the orders he had received. 

He did leave them unchanged — for a whole week. 
The exiles began to believe that they would really be 
allowed to live as before, and that their forebodings 
were idle. They were congratulating themselves to 
this effect, when one day they received notice that the 
regulations concerning persons living in administrative 
exile would be rigidly enforced. No exile would be 
allowed to give instruction of any kind, and therefore 
they must abandon the lessons which were bringing 
them remuneration. Those that were cultivating gov- 
ernment land must abandon that employment, and if 
they wished to labor as agriculturists, they must hire 
themselves to peasants who might need their services. 
The cultivation of land as a speculative enterprise, such 
as they had undertaken, was nowhere sanctioned by the 
Code, and must be given up at once. 

Sad was the meeting of the exiles on the evening 
after the promulgation of this order, and it was ren- 
dered doubly sad by reason of the buoyant hopes they 
had entertained, when an entire week elasped without 
any intimation of a change in their situation. 

It was evident that the new ispravnik intended to 
construe the Code against the exiles, rather than in their 
favor, when there was any opportunity for doubt. 


A CHANGE OF EULERS. 


289 


Their former ruler had said, “ You can do anything that 
you are not forbidden to do, and you may do some for- 
bidden things, provided you do them in such a way as 
to leave no possibility for harm.” The new ruler said 
substantially, “ You can do nothing that is not specially 
sanctioned by the Code ; wherever it is silent upon any 
point, you are prohibited.” 

They addressed a respectful letter to the ispravnik, in 
which they referred to his predecessor regarding their 
conduct ; they called attention to the manner in which 
they had given instruction so that, supposing them to 
have been disposed to evil, they were powerless to 
commit any wrong. They referred to the cultivation 
of the land and said they had carefully read the regula- 
tions and could not find that it was forbidden. They 
prayed to be allowed to continue in the same occupa- 
tions as before, and promised that they would guarantee, 
each for all and all for each, that the most perfect 
order and obedience would prevail among them. 

The letter was returned to them with the word 
“ Impertinent ” written in large letters across its face. 

From this time on their existence was one of misery. 
The ispravnik exercised his ingenuity to devise means 
to make their life wretched by humiliating them as 
much as possible. They were ordered to report to the 
police twice every day ; they were visited at all hours 
of the night ; were forbidden to have curtains upon 
their windows, so that the officers or soldiers might be 
able to look in at any time they chose ; and they were 
obliged to account for every hour of their time when- 
ever the ispravnik chose to ask them what they were 
doing. The sleeping-rooms of the women were not 
exempt from intrusion on the part of the officers ; sev- 
eral times, when the young girls that have been referred 


290 


THE SIBERIAN EXILES. 


to came home from calling on other exiles, they found 
some of the ispravnik’s officers asleep on their beds, and 
similar insults were offered to the two married women, 
whose husbands were not with them. 

“ They required our neighbors to keep an eye upon 
us,” said Hartmann, “ and to report all our movements. 
Not content with this, the officers and soldiers listened 
at our doors, looked in at our windows, both day and 
night, and occasionally they posted sentinels with orders 
to allow no one to enter or leave the house until morn- 
ing. When several of us met together to spend the 
evening we would find ourselves compelled to stay all 
night, and during our absence from our quarters they 
were carefully searched. 

“ If the searches had been decently conducted, they 
would have not been of serious consequence, setting 
aside the humiliation of our being thus under surveil- 
lance. But it seemed as though the police were 
instructed to make the searches as troublesome as they 
could, for they overturned everything, scattered our 
books and other belongings on the floor, tore open every 
parcel, upset our beds, and left the place in as much con- 
fusion as though it had been visited by burglars with 
plenfy of time at their disposal. At nearly every visit 
we missed some trifling things, trifling in themselves, 
but very dear to us, who had so little that we could call 
our own.” 

Under these circumstances, the exiles determined to 
send a petition to the governor of the province, setting 
forth the conditions under which they were living, and 
asking that they should be relieved from the petty 
annoyances that have been mentioned. They repeated 
the guarantees they had already offered to the isprav- 
nik, and referred to the fact that his predecessor had 


A CHANGE OF RULERS. 


291 


never found occasion to complain of them or place them 
under punishment. 

While they are waiting his response to their appeal, 
we will return to the mines at Kara. We will remark 
that the governor’s reply gave them no opportunity to 
hope for an improvement in their condition. 

Soon after the hunger strike among the men came to 
an end, the women convicts (all politicals) were trans- 
ferred to a prison several miles away. They were 
marched out early one morning, after a notice of only 
a few minutes, barely sufficient to enable them to pack 
up the few trifles and comforts in their possession. 
The wind from the North was bitterly cold, and when 
they reached their destination, some of them were more 
dead than alive. 

They had hoped that the prison to which they were 
sent would be more comfortable than the one they left 
behind, but great was their disappointment when they 
found it worse. The floors were rotten and broken, 
the walls were dripping wet and covered here and there 
with thick mildew, the place swarmed with vermin, 
and the space allotted to the prisoners was smaller 
than in the other prison. Some of the women sat down 
and cried in true feminine fashion, or threw themselves 
on the dirty platforms, and vented their grief in loud 
lamentations. But others set their teeth firmly in their 
despair, and gave an example for the others, by endur- 
ing, without a murmur, what was forced upon them. 

The food supplied to the prisoners was in keeping 
with their surroundings ; it was scanty in quantity, 
wretched in quality, and very badly prepared. The 
service of the prison was performed by soldiers, who 
could enter the kameras at any time without warning. 
To the credit of tho soldiers be it said, they were less 


292 


THE SIBERIAN EXILES. 


rude than the officers who commanded them, and very 
often showed that their lack of education and their 
rough exterior, had not deprived them of sympathy for 
the unfortunates under their charge. 

A few days after their arrival at the prison, the 
women were notified that they must lay aside their own 
garments, which they had been permitted to wear, and 
return to the costume of convicts. 

Some of the women were so ill that they were unable 
to stand, others did not believe the order would be en- 
forced, and therefore did not make the change when 
the convict clothing was brought to them. Their con- 
duct was considered rebellious, and the commandant 
proceeded to measures that would reduce them to sub- 
mission. 



CHAPTER XXX. 

A WOMAN FLOGGED TO DEATH. 

About nine o'clock one evening the kameras of the 
women were entered by several soldiers, under the com- 
mand of a lieutenant. Several of the women were 
asleep, and nearly all were lying on the sleeping-plat- 
forms ; some in their night clothing, others in their own 
day garments, and two or three in the prison garb, 
which they had donned in obedience to orders. 

Those who had put on the convict dress were told to 
remain where they were ; the others were ordered to 
rise and deliver up their own clothing at once. 

Several obeyed, as they saw that resistance would be 
useless ; some cried and became hysterical, and others 
did not move, either on account of their inability to 
stand or out of a determination not to submit to the 
humiliation. 

‘‘ Come !” said the officer ; “ there must be no further 
nonsense. Unless you get up at once, you’ll be helped." 

“ Leave us for ten minutes," said one of the women, 
“ and give us the chance to make the change." 

“ Not a minute or a second," was the gruff reply, 
“ Get up at once !" 

\m\ 


THE SIBERIAN EXILES. 


No one moved. Then the lieutenant took a list from 
his pocket and read four names of prisoners who were 
under the surgeon’s care and against whom the order 
would not be immediately enforced. There remained 
three who refused to don the prison-dress in the pres- 
ence of the officer and soldiers, though they all said they 
would do so if left alone until morning. 

Refusal to obey a specific order of this kind was 
“ mutinous conduct ” and could not be permitted with 
safety to the imperial dynasty. Then the officer pro- 
ceeded to do as he had been instructed. 

At his command two of the soldiers seized one of the 
women by the arms, dragged her to her feet and into 
the passage-way outside of the kamera. She was clad 
only in her night-dress ; her own clothing had been 
spread above her, and it dropped to the floor as she was 
lifted up. 

“ Take her to the commandant’s room,” the officer 
ordered. 

The woman screamed, but no heed was paid to her 
screaming. She was dragged, wearing only her night- 
gown, along the corridor and into the commandant’s 
office. The lieutenant followed with the rest of the 
soldiers, and as he entered the presence of his superior, 
he made a military salute and signified that he had fol- 
lowed his instructions. 

The woman’s only garment was then stripped from 
her by the soldiers and a convict’s dress was thrown 
over her shoulders. She struggled and resisted, but 
her strength was nothing compared to that of the 
Cossacks who were doing the bidding of' the brute 
wearing epaulettes, the commandant or director of the 
prison, 


A WOMAN FLOGGED TO DEATH. 


.295 


“ How many more have you who refuse ?” queried 
the commandant. 

“ Two,” answered his subordinate, again making the 
military salute. 

“ Take this one back and bring them along,” was the 
order which followed. “ We’ll have no more sentimen- 
tal nonsense about this business.” 

The lieutenant departed to carry out his instructions. 
By the time he reached the kamera the other women 
had donned the prison costume, knowing that unless 
they did so, they would be submitted to the same out- 
rage as the one they had just witnessed. 

Bear in mind that these prisoners were not untutored 
savages, accustomed to scanty apparel and having very 
crude notions in regard to modesty. All were refined 
women of good families, well educated, accustomed to 
good society in European Russia, gentle in birth and 
breeding, and with sensibilities of the highest type. Two 
were the wives of officers in the army, two were the 
wives of lawyers, one was the daughter of a prominent 
physician in Moscow, and another the daughter of a 
wealthy merchant of Odessa. One had trod the boards 
of the imperial opera-house as a prim a donna of song, 
another bore a high reputation as a soubrette, and others 
were school-teachers, thoroughly educated for the duties 
of their profession. These were the women who were 
treated by brutal soldiers in the manner described ! 

Madame Soluzeff, the victim of this official outrage, 
was dragged back to her kamera and flnng senseless on 
the sleeping-bench whence she had been taken. All 
night she lay in a swoon, out of which she was occasion- 
ally roused only to scream hysterically and swoon 
again. Her grief-stricken companions endeavored to 
soothe her, but without avail. In the morning she 


296 


tHE SIBEEtAK EXILES. 


recovered and began to talk incoherently, and it was 
soon apparent to her friends that her mind had given 
way under the terrible strain. 

The doctor was called, and after hearing the account 
of how she had passed the night, he administered an 
opiate. Under its influence she fell off into a heavy 
sleep ; he came again at noon, administered another 
dose of the same drug, and said he thought that when 
she recovered from its effect her mind would be in its 
proper state. 

His prognostication was incorrect. She did not 
recover ; her intellect was blotted out forever, and her 
physical system had undergone such a shock that she 
was unable to rise to her feet. She was carried to the 
hospital, and four days later was a corpse. Doubtless 
the protectors of the imperial throne breathed more 
freely when they learned that Madame Soluzeff, exiled 
for life because she was a member of a “ Circle for Self- 
Instruction,” where liberal views were occasionally dis- 
cussed, was no more. 

In the kamera with Madame Soluzeff at the time the 
order to don the apparel of the convict was issued, 
there was a married woman named Shihida. She was 
twenty-seven years of age, a vivacious, excitable and 
withal a brilliant personage, the daughter of a merchant 
of Taganrog. Her education took place at the gymna- 
sium in that city, and after passing the examinations 
with high honors she became a school-teacher in Tagan- 
rog. One who knew her describes her as a brunette of 
medium size, with a thoroughly Russian physiognomy, 
and a pair of large black eyes that fascinated every one 
with their powers of penetration and the look of intel- 
ligence which lay within them. The same friend says 
she was so excitable in her character that she was often 


A WOMAN FLOGGED TO DEATH. 


297 


called a bundle of nerves ; .she was an idealist who 
demanded the most unswerving adherence to principle, 
and would allow no excuse for a deviation from it. 
And this adhesion to principle she demanded in the 
most trivial matters as well as in affairs of the greatest 
importance ; whenever a promise of any kind was 
broken, she accepted no explanation and never granted 
forgiveness. 

Such a woman is certain to have possessed liberal 
ideas, and it is no surprise that she fell under suspicion 
and was sent to Siberia, because of her frankly avowed 
belief that the affairs of the empire required improve- 
ment. She was transported to the Kara gold mines, 
whence she would be sent to the North as a forced 
colonist at the expiration of her term of penal servitude. 

When the order to don the prison clothing was issued, 
she was one of the first to refuse, and she persisted in 
her refusal up to the time when Madame Soluzeff was 
dragged out in the manner we have described. She 
was one of the two who was left behind by the lieuten- 
ant, and it was only by the earnest entreaties of her 
companions that she was induced to put on the hated 
garments. She did so under protest, and declared that 
she would not wear them many days. What her plan 
was she refused to say, but bided her time for action. 

A few days later she violated one of the minor rules 
of the prison, and was taken to the office of the com- 
mandant for reprimand and punishment. While the 
commandant was reprimanding her, and using most 
abusive language, she stepped suddenly in front of him 
and slapped him in the face. 

She expected to be hanged for this infraction of 
discipline, and had evidently planned her action with 


298 


THE SIBERIAN EXILES. 


deliberation, though some of her friends think she 
struck the officer under an impulse of indignation at his 
insults. The commandant was determined not to let 
her off by the usual method of execution, but ordered 
that she should be flogged. He sentenced her to 
receive one hundred blows of the plet, “ humane ” sub- 
stitute of the Russians for the knout. 

She was sent to a solitary cell and not allowed to 
communicate with her companions. The next day the 
flogging took place in the prison-yard. A woman was 
flogged with the plet by command of an officer of the 
imperial forces of Russia, in his presence and in that of 
the other officers of the garrison. 

No, all the other officers were not present. The 
prison surgeon would not certify that Madame Shihida 
was in proper physical condition to enable her to be 
flogged without danger to life, and when told that the 
flogging would take place without his professional cer- 
tificate, he refused to be present. The commandant 
threatened to place him under arrest, but he persisted 
and said he would prefer to be court-martialed for dis- 
obedience of orders, rather than appear to sanction the 
affair by witnessing it. 

Madame Shihida was brought to the commandant’s 
office from the cell where she had passed the night alone. 
She was weak from the poor food and the wretched 
conditions under which she had been living, but her 
step was firm and she offered no resistance until the 
soldiers began stripping the clothing from her back ; 
then she struggled and resisted, she fought with all the 
strength of desperation, but was soon overpowered and 
her body was bared to the waist. 

Her long black hair streamed loosely down her 


A WOMAN FLOGGED TO DEATH. 


299 


shoulders as she was half led and half carried by two Cos- 
sacks from the office of the commandant to the prison- 
yard, where the soldiers and officers were drawn up in 
line to witness one of the most revolting spectacles 
known to this last half of the nineteenth century. 

In the centre of the square of soldiers a blanket had 
been spread on the ground. On this blanket the woman 
was thrown, face downward ; four soldiers held her 
limbs to prevent her struggling, a fifth held her head, 
and then the commandant gave the order for the exe- 
cutioner to begin. 

The supple birch cut a deep furrow into the tender 
flesh at the first blow, and as each stroke fell, other fur- 
rows were made, until the woman’s back was a mass of 
gore. The flesh quivered, the body shuddered convul- 
sively, and the first half-dozen blows were followed by 
screams from the victim, who could not unflinchingly 
endure the horrible pain. But after a short time she 
was silent, and with good reason, for she had fainted, 
and was no longer aware of the punishment she was 
receiving. 

The hundred blows were given, and then the exe- 
cutioner stayed his hand. The insensible body was 
lifted to a stretcher, a cloak was thrown over it, and the 
men carried the burden to the hospital. The surgeon 
did all in his power to restore Madame Shihida to con- 
sciousness, but his efforts were of no avail. 

The flogging took place on Wednesday morning. She 
never recovered from the shock, though she continued 
to live until Friday morning, when her last breath was 
drawn. She found the death that she deliberately 
sought, though not in the form in which she sought it. 

When her fate became known among her late com- 
panions in misery, four of them committed suicide by 


300 


THE SIBERIAN EXILES. 


poison. Two others took poison with the same intent, 
but were saved through the efforts of the surgeons. 

Then the women organized a hunger strike which 
lasted seventeen days. During the last days of the 
strike they were saved from death by the forcible 
administration of food by the surgeons, but they per- 
sistently refused to take food voluntarily, until the 
odious edict forbidding them to wear their own clothing 
was recalled. 

Of course the report of the occurrences in the women’s 
prison was carried to the male prisoners very speedily. 
It caused great excitement and indignation, and the 
anger of the men ran to such a height that some lost 
control over themselves and attacked their guards. An 
attack upon the guards could hardly terminate other 
than in defeat, as it was without any preparation or 
previous plan, and was made under excitement. Some 
were shot down, and the rest were pounded with the 
butt ends of rifled, stabbed with bayonets, or otherwise 
subdued. The “ boont,” or insurrection, was soon over, 
and the commandant telegraphed an exaggerated 
account of it to his superiors, in which he represented it 
to be an affair that was long contemplated, and pre- 
pared for. 

In consequence of the “ insurrection ” the draft for the 
Free Command was stopped, and orders came to the 
commandant to distribute the political prisoners in 
small parties among the gangs of criminal convicts in 
the various mines of the Kara district. 

The command was carried out, and brutally, too. 
The next morning the prisoners were ordered out 
before breakfast and immediately marched away in leg- 
fetters to their destination. They protested against the 
cruelty of compelling them to go on the road without 


A WOMAN FLOGGED TO DEATH. 


301 


food, and asked the commander of their escort to allow 
them to rest on the way long enough to obtain and eat 
something. This request was refused, and the men 
were prodded with the bayonets of their guards. This 
angered them so, that they picked up stones and 
attacked the soldiers. As might be expected, the latter 
made quick use of their weapons, shooting two or three 
of the prisoners and knocking down others who resisted. 
Further resistance was rendered impossible by tying 
every prisoner’s hands behind his back, and in this 
plight they finished their journey. Starving, bruised, 
bleeding, and weary, they reached their destinations 
among the criminal convicts. 



CHAPTER XXXI. 

ASSASSINATION OF THE GOVERNOR. 

Pushkin and Dubayeff were among the cooler-headed 
prisoners who saw the futility of resistance, and they 
took no part in the demonstrations at the prison or on 
the road. But they did not escape without injury, as 
Dubayeff was one of those knocked down with the butt 
of a rifle, while Pushkin received a bullet that was 
intended for another prisoner. Fortunately for him, his 
wound was slight and confined to the flesh, so that it 
healed in a few days. Dubayeff's injury was more 
severe, but he, too, recovered, and was able to take his 
place among his companions. 

For some eight or ten weeks the prisoners were held 
under “ dungeon conditions,” as a punishment for their 
resistance to the cruelty of their guards, and no distinc- 
tion was made among them. Those who had taken no 
part in the affair were treated in the same way as the 
others, but they were too honorable to make any com- 
plaint, lest it might cause greater inhumanity to be 
shown towards the active participants in the “boont.” 

When a prisoner is under dungeon conditions he 
is placed in solitary confinement, and allowed no lux- 
uries or privileges whatever. We have seen what dun- 
geon conditions are in the prisons of European Russia ; 

[302] 


ASSASSINATION OF THE GOVERNOR. 


303 


they are very much the ^me in Siberia, but if there is 
any difference, it is against the Siberian prisons, which 
are not -as well built as those of the older part of the 
empire. . 

It happened that Pushkin and Dubayeff occupied con- 
tiguous cells in the prison to which they were assigned, 
and as both know the knock alphabet, they were able to 
communicate with each other. This was their only 
resource for beguiling the long days, as they were not 
permitted to have books or writing materials, could not 
walk in the yard, and were rarely allowed to pass beyond 
the boundaries of their cells. Whenever they were taken 
out, it was for the purpose of examining the cells to make 
sure that no preparations had been made for escape. 
They were obliged to exercise great caution in commu- 
nicating by means of the knock alphabet, as their dis- 
covery in using it would have led to a change of their 
cells. 

Scurvy broke out among the prisoners, whose food 
consisted only of rye bread and water, with an occasional 
allowance of thin soup with boiled barley. The disease 
was so prevalent among them, that the commandant of 
the prison became alarmed, and ordered the men to be 
collected in one of the prisons, where they were placed 
in kameras and supplied with more nourishing food. 
Several of the worst cases were sent to the hospital, and 
two men never recovered. The prisoners asked that 
their money, which was in the hands of the authorities, 
should be expended in buying things that were greatly 
needed by the sick ; but the request went unheeded. 
While living in dungeon conditions, they had no beds 
or bedding, but when scurvy became so prevalent, they 
were allowed thin mattresses of straw, which they spread 
upon the sleeping-benches. 


304 


THE SIBERIAN EXILES. 


In spite of the vigilance with which they were watched 
the unfortunates managed to keep up communication 
with the outside world, through the aid of such of their 
guards as were corruptible. Any intelligence obtained 
by one was shared with all, and thus the knock alphabet 
performed an important service while they were under 
dungeon conditions. After the return to the kameras 
the necessity of communication by sound was removed. 

In corresponding with their friends in the Free Com- 
mand the prisoners used the checker-board cipher, which 
has been elsewhere described. Nothing was ever written 
in plain language, lest it might fall into the hands of the 
authorities, and as the key to the code was frequently 
changed, the possession of a message in cipher would do 
the authorities very little good. 

The guards had various ways of concealing the 
missives intrusted to them. The letters were nearly 
always enclosed in bread pills ; the guards concealed 
these pills in their hair, in their garments or boots, or 
wherever else they could find a secure place. There 
was one soldier who had a very capacious mouth, 
garnished with teeth proportioned to the size of the 
buccal orifice, and he was one of the most successful 
mail carriers of which the place could boast. One 
of his teeth was hollow, and the cavity was of a size 
sufficient to take in a bread pill of liberal dimensions. 
He utilized this hollow to advantage, and though 
he suffered occasionally from toothache, he never went 
to the surgeon or dentist for relief, lest the pulling or 
filling of the tooth would deprive him of an important 
vehicle of transport. 

He would come into the kamera with one or more of 
his fellows, and drop the pill at the feet of a prisoner 


ASSASSINATIOH" OF THE GOVERNOR. 


305 


without being observed by his comrades, although 
they might have their eyes on him all the time. 

One evening, when he came with others to shut up 
the prisoners for the night, he signified that he had a 
letter for them. While the verification was going on 
he dropped the pill on the floor, and as soon as the men 
were left to themselves they picked it up and pro- 
ceeded to decipher the communication it contained. 

The message was brief but of great importance. It 
consisted of the following words : 

“ Governor killed yesterday by Vera Paskovitch.” 

The governor of the province was a brute, and 
all rejoiced to hear of his death. But what of Vera 
Paskovitch, and how did she accomplish it ? 

“ They will be more strict with us than ever,” said 
Dubayeff, “ and it may be some time before we can get 
the particulars.” 

“ Yes,” replied Pushkin, “ but they must rack their 
ingenuity to invent a new torture.” 

“ Vera is a saint,” remarked another. “ She has done 
a noble work, and will probably be hanged or flogged 
to death for it.” 

“ Let us hope she escaped,” said Pushkin. “ We will 
offer thanks to God, and pray for the poor girl’s es- 
cape. ” 

All assented to the proposal, though a considerable 
number of the prisoners were quite indifferent on the 
subject of religion, or anything relating to it. Some 
were skeptical to the last degree, and said they saw no 
use in a deity who would allow them to endure every- 
thing they were undergoing, solely because of their 
difference of opinion with the authorities at St Peters- 
burg. But in this instance, they set aside their unbe- 


306 


THE SIBERIAN EXILES. 


lief, and joined as fervently as the rest in a prayer for 
the deliverance from peril, of the girl who had ri^ them 
of one of their persecutors. 

As Dubayeff predicted, it was several days before 
they learned the full story of the death of the governor 
of the province in which the Kara mines are situated. 

Vera Paskovitch had been sent to Siberia for fifteen 
years as a punishment for being a member of a secret 
society which had for its object the establishment of a 
parliament, or National assembly, in Russia. She had 
served her probationary term in prison, then lived in 
the Free Command for a time, and on the expiration of 
her term there, she was sent to a small town in the 
Trans-Baikal province, to live as a colonist. 

Miss Paskovitch had suffered much during her im- 
prisonment, and passed through two hunger strikes in 
as many penal establishments ; her guards had robbed 
her of what money she possessed at different times, 
and her treatment on several occasions was similar to 
that of the women in the political prison at Kara. 

In the village to which she was assigned, she heard 
about the flogging and death of Madame Shihida, and 
of the sufferings of the other women in the same prison. 
Brooding on these horrible occurrences she determined 
to assassinate the governor, whom she regarded as the 
cause of the greater part of this brutality. She rea- 
soned that his death at her hands would call attention 
to the condition of the Siberian prisons, and though 
she expected to be hanged for her crime, she did not 
hesitate a moment in carrying it out. 

She confided her purpose to no one. Her first step 
was to buy a pistol, and this was by no means easy. It 
is necessary for any one who wishes to carry fire-arms 
in Siberia to have a permit from the police to do so. 


ASSASSINA’riON OF THE GOVERNOR. 


807 


and such a permit could never be obtained by a young 
woman living under exile conditions. She went to a 
criminal colonist in the town, and asked if he could buy 
a pistol for her. 

“ Perhaps I can,” was his guarded reply, “ but what 
do you want it for ?” 

“ I want it to scare away thieves from the house where 
I live,” she answered. 

“ Have you been troubled by them he asked, in a 
tone of surprise. 

“Yes,” she answered, “twice within the month they 
have tried to get into the house, but have been scared 
away by the big dog at our neighbor’s. I’m afraid 
they’ll come again and so I want a pistol. What they 
could find to steal I cannot imagine, as there’s nothing 
in the house worth taking away.” 

“ That’s what I was thinking, myself,” said the 
ex-criminal, who had doubtless done some stealing on 
his own account before coming to Siberia. Like most 
men in his profession he always took good care to 
know that there was something worth having before he 
entered a house or assaulted a traveller. 

“ I’ll get you a pistol,” he said, after a pause, but it 
will cost ten rubles.” 

She agreed to the price and soon had the pistol in 
her possession. It was a very common affair, worth 
not more than two or three rubles, but forbidden goods 
cost dear in any part of the world. 

Vera obtained permission of the police to visit a 
friend in a village some twenty versts away and spend 
a fortnight with her. But instead of going to the 
village, she made the best of her way to Nertchinsk, 
intending to proceed thence to Chita, the provincial 
capital, where the governor lived. She learned on 


308 


THE SIBERIAN EXILES. 


reaching Nertchinsk that the governor was then on a 
visit to Kara, and would remain two or three days at 
the town on his return. 

The girl concluded to wait for his arrival, but had 
considerable difficulty in evading the police. She found 
some administrative exiles living in the town, and 
through their aid she was concealed. She did not 
reveal to these people the object of her visit, lest they 
might try to dissuade her. 

The governor came at the time designated and was 
the object of much attention on the part of the citizens. 
She sought an audience with him in order to present a 
petition of some peasant women who had been evicted 
from their houses by a wealthy landowner, and felt that 
the case should be laid before the governor by one of 
their number. She enacted her rdle to perfection ; her 
dress was of the coarsest description and her manner 
was that of a peasant girl who had never yet looked 
upon a governor except at a distance. The governor’s 
adjutant had no suspicions of her object or he would 
have caused her to be searched ; moreover, he knew 
that the governor had a favorable eye for pretty girls, 
and Vera Paskovitch possessed a very attractive face. 

Several citizens were in the audience-room when she 
entered, timid and shrinking, and hesitated near the 
door. After disposing of the cases to which he was 
listening. His Excellency turned to the new visitor, and 
said : 

“ Well, my pretty girl, what do you want ?” 

The girl was standing with the pistol concealed in 
her handkerchief and ready cocked. As she stood full 
in front of him, she raised the weapon and discharged 
it at his breast, saying, as she did so ; 

“ Remember Kara !" 


ASSASSINATION OF THE GOVERNOR. 


309 


The bystanders rushed forward to seize and disarm 
her, hut it was too late. The bullet had done its work 
and the governor was fatally wounded. He died the 
next day, and but for the opiates administered by the 
surgeon he would have suffered great pain previous to 
his death. 

Miss Paskovitch was taken immediately to the prison 
and thrown into a solitary cell. A few days later she 
was carried under a strong guard to Chita, where her 
trial was ordered to take place before a military court 
some three or four months later. 

While awaiting her trial she was kept in a “ secret ” 
cell, which the other occupants of the prison said was a 
cruel place to shut a dog in. It was not more than 
six feet square and as many in height ; it had no 
windows, and the only place where light and air could 
enter, was through a hole about ten inches square in the 
door. The room had not been swept or cleaned for 
years, and contained not a single article of furniture ; 
there was no bedding, and when she asked for a truss 
of straw to lie upon, she was told that there was no 
straw for murderers. 

How she lived during these three months under 
such conditions one can hardly comprehend ; she must 
have possessed great vitality to endure so long. But 
endure she did, and in due time she was brought before 
the military court, which quickly condemned her to be 
hanged. 

An effort was made to show that her act was part of 
a plot, and it was quite natural that the government 
officials should suspect the existence of a widespread 
scheme. 

She was promised leniency if she would reveal the . 
extent of the plot and name the conspirators in it, and 


810 


THE SIBERIAN EXILES. 


especially the one who suggested the murder of the , 
governor. 

“There is no plot,” she replied, “and there are no. 
conspirators. I alone planned what I have done, and 
no one knew anything about it but myself.” 

“ What was your motive ?” the presiding officer asked. 
“ Had the governor wronged you ?” 

“ I never saw the governor before,” she replied, “ and 
have no knowledge that he ever knew my name. He 
may have seen it in a list of prisoners, but that is all.” 

“ Then why did you select him as the mark of your 
pistol ?” 

“ In order that the attention of Russia, and the whole 
world, might be drawn to the sufferings of the men and 
women now imprisoned in this province, to whom death 
would be a blessing, far better than life as they find it. 
I believe that when the rest of the empire knows of the 
wrongs that are perpetrated in Siberia there will be a 
change for the better. I gladly give my life for the 
good of those whom I leave behind me.” 

The decree was entered that see be hanged a month 
after the trial. She was sent back to her miserable cell, 
and at the end of the month was told that in view of her 
youth and sex, the sentence had been commuted to 
imprisonment for life. She refused to take food from 
the time this announcement was made, and died not 
long afterwards. 

How widely the knowledge of her act, and the causes 
that led to it, became known in the empire, is difficult 
to say. These matters are not published in the news- 
papers, as they do not meet the approval of the censor, 
and the only way they can reach the public is through 
repetition from one person to another, or through 
manuscript accounts which circulate surreptitiously. It 


ASSASSINATION OT THE GOVEENOE. 


311 


is fair to say that the readers of the London Tunes, 
and of daily newspapers generally throughout the 
world, have a better knowledge of the political and 
social troubles of Russia than the majority of the people 
whose whole lives have been spent there. It is emphat- 
ically the case with Russians, that they must go from 
home to hear the news. ‘ 

In the prisons at Kara it was an anxious time as from 
day to day, or at irregular intervals, they learned the 
details of the dramatic act of Vera Paskovitch, her 
imprisonment, trial and sentence, and the commutation 
that was given by the government in its great clemency. 
Then a little later they learned that she was dead and 
the circumstances under which she died. 

The reader will ask if the death of the governor 
resulted in any amelioration of the condition of the 
prisoners. 

Yes, that was the result, though not directly due to 
intent on the part of any one in particular. The 
removal, by death or otherwise, of a high official the 
world over, generally causes many changes in the list of 
his subordinates. It was so in the present instance, and 
the commandant at the prison where Pushkin and 
Dubayeif were confined, was relieved of his duties and 
sent elsewhere. His successor was a more humane 
man, perhaps we should say he was less a brute, and 
consequently the prisoners were gainers by the change. 

Most of their old privileges were restored, one by 
one, and they were looking forward to the time when 
they would be allowed to live in the Free Command 
preparatory to being sent to settle as colonists. The 
new commandant acquainted himself with the history 
of the so-called insurrection ; though he expressed no 


312 


THE SIBERIAN EXILES. 


opinion, it was evident that he did not hold his pre- 
decessor altogether blameless for its occurrence. 

There was little difficulty in holding communication 
with their friends outside, as the guards were not closely 
watched and the hollow tooth was no longer needed. 
Short letters, and sometimes long ones, were sent or 
received, and the prisoners were fairly well informed 
concerning the world from which they were so com- 
pletely secluded. 

One day there came a letter which told of occurrences 
in other parts of Siberia. It was in cipher, like all the 
contraband letters, and as it was slowly reduced, sen- 
tence by sentence, to intelligible language, those who 
heard it realized that after all theirs was not the only 
place where brutes rule over men and the feelings of 
humanity are known only to those who suffer. 

Dubayeff and Pushkin stood with their hands linked 
together as the translators spelled out the words and 
composed the sentences that made up the communica- 
tion. Dubayeff whispered to his friend that the letter 
deserved to be written in blood, to which Pushkin made 
no response other than a feeble nod. 

When the end was reached, the man who translated 
it said that the original, from which this account had 
been abridged, was written in the blood of one of the 
victims of the tragedy which was described. Dubayeff 
shuddered and turned pale when he heard this, and 
thought of the words he had spoken a few minutes 
before. 



CHAPTER XXXIL 

THE MASSACRE AT YAKUTSK. 

The tragedy referred to in the preceding chapter 
occurred in Yakutsk, the chief town of the province of 
the same name. It is a place of about five thousand 
inhabitants, in latitude 62® i' North, and has the reputa- 
tion of being the coldest town of its size on the face of 
the globe. Its mean annual temperature is a trifle 
above thirteen degrees ; in winter the thermometer has 
remained sixty degrees below zero for weeks together, 
while in summer the earth thaws only a few inches below 
the surface. At the beginning of winter, those of the 
inhabitants who cannot afford glass windows make use 
of thin sheets of ice as a substitute, and the cold is so 
intense and sustained, that there is not often any occasion 
for renewing the frozen panes during the entire season. 

The inhospitable climate of Yakutsk, and the hardships 
of existence there, make the place attractive in the eyes 
of the Exile Administration of Russia. The province 
annually receives many exile.s, some of whom are sent 
to reside in the town just mentioned, while the rest are 
scattered over the vast province, which extends to the 
shores of the Arctic Ocean. Yakutsk is one of the old- 
est towns in Siberia ; it existed before Irkutsk was 
founded, and its ruined fort can boast an age of two 

[313] 


814 


THE SIBEEIAN EXILES. 


centuries. The town is a conglomeration of native 
yourts and Russian houses, and its largest building is a 
stone cathedral, which reflects great credit upon its 
builders, when its locality is considered About one-half 
the inhabitants are Russians and the rest aboriginal 
Yakuts. Throughout the province the aboriginals are 
far more numerous than their conquerors, with whom 
they have long lived on terms of perfect friendship. 

At the time of which we write, the prison of Yakutsk, 
an edifice scarcely less noticeable than the cathedral, 
was crowded with exiles sentenced to perpetual banish- 
ment in that rigorous region. The greater number of 
them were politicals, of the same class as those we 
have seen at the Kara mines, and they had been wait- 
ing for the order for their distribution among the 
villages where they were to reside. The general con- 
ditions of the prison of Yakutsk were so much like 
those we have alrerdy seen, that they do not merit 
a special description. Suflice it is to say that all the 
exiles were quite ready to be sent to their destinations, 
as they realized they could hardly be worse off in their 
new homes, and would certainly have the advantages of 
pure air and exercise. 

In one part of the prison were thirty politicals, who 
had been there for several months. Ordinarily, they 
had the privilege of being together in one of the kame- 
ras, but for the slightest infraction of the rules, and not 
infrequently upon the mere caprice of their custodians, 
they were separated and shut up in the “ secret ” cells 
for days or weeks at a time. An order came for the 
transportation of the thirty to a point further up the 
Lena, the river on whose banks Yakutsk is built. They 
were notified that they could be allowed no more than 
five pounds of baggage to each person, and no one 


r 


THE MASSACRE AT YAKUTSK. 


315 


would be permitted to have any money, either in his 
possession or in the hands of the officers of the convoy. 

“ When we received this notice,” said the writer of 
the letter giving an account of the tragedy, “ we drew 
up a petition to the governor, asking him to rescind the 
order, as it was simply impossible for us to exist on the 
government allowance. We explained that if the com- 
mand should be enforced, not one of us would be able 
to live ; it meant starvation for us all, though we said 
in our petition we did not suppose the government 
so intended it. 

“ Every prisoner in our company signed the petition, 
which we handed to the chief of police to give to the 
governor. The chief looked at the paper and handed 
it back to us ; then he called his deputy, who ordered us 
into the yard and then took the petition to the governor. 

“ He came back in a little while and told us that our 
conduct was rebellious, and the governor had ordered 
us to be put in leg-fetters. The prison blacksmith 
came and ironed us, and then we were sent again into 
the prison. In about four hours we were ordered into 
the yard once more, where we found a strong force of 
police soldiers, commanded by a lieutenant. 

“ The police building is close to the general prison, 
and we were told that we were to go there, and then 
set out on our journey. Some of us protested, and said 
we wanted to wait in the yard until we had a final an- 
swer from the governor. 

“ The police lieutenant frowned and shouted : 

“ ‘ What ! you refuse to obey orders ?’ 

“ Then he said to his soldiers, ‘ Give it to them, boys !’ 
and immediately the soldiers fired upon us, and fol- 
lowed up their volley with the use of the bayonet. We 
tried to break through the ranks, but could not, as wc 


316 


THE SIBERIAN EXILES. 


were impeded by our irons and hemmed in by the bay- 
onets. 

“ In a few minutes the ground in the prison -yard was 
covered with dead and wounded prisoners. The noise 
of the firing brought the governor to the spot. Zotoff, 
one of our brave fellows, snatched a revolver from a 
soldier and tried to shoot the governor. Then the sol- 
diers fired another volley at the prisoners, and Zotoff 
fell severely wounded among those already on the 
ground. 

“ Those whom the bullets and bayonets had spared 
were beaten with the butts of the rifles, so that not one 
of the thirty escaped injury. Bruised and bleeding all 
who could walk were driven into the prison building, 
the wounded who could not stand were carried to the 
hospital, and the dead were taken away for burial, or, 
at all events, they disappeared. 

“ One of our party, Bernstein, had been followed to 
Siberia by his wife, who lived outside in a house near 
the prison. Bernstein was wounded in the melee, and 
when his wife came into the yard and tried to reach 
him, to bind up his wounds, she was beaten by the sol- 
diers, and next day she was flogged by the governor’s 
order. 

“ Of our whole number of thirty, six were killed by 
bullets, bayonets, or beating, and nine are so badly 
wounded that they are in the hospital. Sophie Gure- 
witz is among the dead, killed by the thrust of a bayo- 
net while she was on her knees begging for life ; Anna 
Zoroastrova is one of the wounded, and she is not likely 
to recover. 

“ Next day we were brought up for trial in the 
prison-yard. You might suppose our trial would take 
considerable time, but it didn’t. We were not allowed 


THE MASSACRE AT YAKUTSK. 


317 


any defense, and the witnesses against us were the 
soldiers who had attacked us by order of the lieutenant 
of police. Here is the formality that each went 
through : 

“ ‘ What is your name ?’ 

“ ‘ Nicolai Zotoff.’ 

“ ^ What is your age ?’ 

“ ‘ Thirty-two.’ 

“ ‘ What is your religion ?’ 

“ ‘ The Greek Church.’ 

“ ‘ What defense have you to make ?* 

“ ‘ What is the charge against me ?’ 

“ ‘ Armed rebellion against authority.’ 

“ ‘ What are the proofs against me ?’ 

“ ‘You have already heard the. proofs given by the 
witnesses who were present at the time.’ 

“ ‘ I deny that I made any rebellion, I had no arms 
and was assaulted by the soldiers.’ 

“ ‘ That is all you have to say. Stand aside. The 
next.’ 

“ This was all the trial they gave us, and a week 
later they called us into the yard again to hear our 
sentences. Zotoff and Bernstein were sentenced to be 
hanged ; Zotoff because he had fired a pistol at the 
governor, and the other because his name was first on 
the petition, and also because he resisted the attack of 
the soldiers. When the time came for the execution 
Zotoff was still in bed with his wounds, and we thought 
a respite would be given him until he could stand. 
But he had no respite ; he was brought out on a 
stretcher and the noose was placed around his neck 
while he was held above the heads of four tall soldiers. 
When all was ready they dropped the stretcher, and the 
body of our poor friend hung in the air, 


THE SIBERIAN EXILES. 


his 


“ The others were sentenced to hard labor in the 
mines for terms of ten, fifteen, or twenty years ; four 
of them were women who had not lifted a hand in the 
fight, except to beg the soldiers to stop the shooting and 
stabbing. We are to be taken to the mines very soon, 
so they tell us, though some of the soldiers say the 
women and two or three of the men will be distrib- 
uted as colonists among the Yakut villages to the 
north. It matters little what they do with -us, as none 
are likely to live much longer. 

“ Just before Bernstein was taken to execution he was 
allowed to see the others, and give us his last message. 
As we shook hands and embraced, he said, * May this 
last parting be lightened by hopes for a better future 
for our unhappy country. Never an atom of Nature’s 
matter can be lost, and thus a human life sacrificed to- 
day will benefit those who yet live. Never grieve about 
the dead ; you have a great, a living issue before you. 
Our sufferings will benefit humanity ; we are suffering 
in behalf of a down-trodden people, and we die a sac- 
rifice upon the altar of Liberty.’ ” 

Bernstein and Zotoff were personally known to some 
of the prisoners at Kara. As the letter was read there 
was deep and audible sorrow on the part of the listen- 
ers, and especially of those to whom the victims of the 
massacre were more than mere names. It would have 
required little to raise a revolt then and there ; so fren- 
zied were the prisoners with what they had heard, that 
they were ready for anything, no matter how desperate 
or hopeless. Happily, no one suggested an insurrec- 
tion, or volunteered to lead an assault upon the guards. 

‘‘ After this,” said Pushkin to Dubayeff, “ I shall bear 
with less repining my imprisonment here. Bad as Kara 
has proved itself, it is not such a hell as Yakutsk,” 


THE MASSACRE AT YAKUTSK. 


319 


“Yes,” was the reply, “and the mystery I have men- 
tioned heretofore rises again before me. If our masters 
seek our deaths, why do they not kill us at once instead 
of dragging us to Siberia and wearing out our lives in 
the way they do.” 

Similar comments were made among the other pris- 
oners, and in the midst of their conversation on the sub- 
ject the attendants came bringing the suppers for the 
occupants of the kamera. While they remained within 
hearing there was no allusion to the tragic news that 
had touched all hearts. 

The reader doubtless wonders how such a letter as 
the foregoing was brought from Yakutsk. As before 
stated, the original communication was written in blood 
with a splinter of wood instead of a pen. The paper on 
which it appeared was smuggled into the prison by one 
of the soldiers, who subsequently carried the letter to an 
administrative exile living in the town of Yakutsk. 
The latter made several copies, and these he transmitted 
to exile friends in Irkutsk and Chita ; their transit took 
a long time, as opportunities for sending by safe hand 
were rare and Yakutsk is more than two thousand 
miles from Irkutsk. The route follows the Lena ; in 
summer navigation is by boats along the river, and in 
winter a road is kept open along the icy surface. 
There is little travel other than that of exiles and their 
convoys, and of the exiles who go there only a small 
proportion ever return to European Russia. 

When these letters reached Irkutsk and Chita fresh 
copies were multiplied and sent wherever they could 
be conveyed. Some of them fell into official hands and 
were destroyed, but others reached their destinations. 
Considerable time was consumed, but in less than a 
year the details of the outrage were in every prison of 


320 


THE SIBERIAN EXILES. 


Siberia, and also of European Russia, and had been 
printed in the newspapers of the outside world. Try 
as best he may, the autocrat of all the Russias cannot 
suppress the spread of intelligence ; if the spirit of the 
martyred Bernstein can visit this world, it will know 
that the story of that terrible tragedy has been spread 
far and wide. 

The Russian censorship, with all its activity, is not 
able to suppress the circulation of forbidden literature. 
Manuscript stories are passed from hand to hand in the 
same way as printed books, and some manuscripts have 
had thousands of readers before they fell into official 
hands and were destroyed. In the meantime other 
copies were made, so that the destruction of one did not 
avail towards suppression of the works. 

“ At one time,” said Dubayeff to Pushkin, when they 
were discussing the censorship, “ I was employed in the 
office of a newspaper, and in this way I happened to 
know how the censor does his work. Everything has 
to pass under his eye, and his will is as autocratic as 
that of the Czar in regard to what shall not be published. 

“ The censor used to come to the office about eleven 
o’clock at night to look over the proof-slips of what had 
been written and put in type. He examined everything 
— editorials, news matters in and out of Russia, local 
happenings, advertisements, and even the notices of 
marriages and deaths. If anything seemed objection- 
able, he drew a line through it with red ink, and wrote 
the word “ Forbidden ” on the margin. Sometimes he 
blotted out entire articles, sometimes he destroyed a 
part of an article and allowed the rest to stand, and 
occasionally his objections related to only a few lines 
or words.” 


KEMEMBER KARA !”— *S'ee Fa(je 308 








' .7\V • 




* 

7' 


/ - *.0 • 






< k> 



-H,. • . 

^••^JV. ■’ 

*■^1 Cit ' »■* ' 

i.jf, 



■ ♦ 9 -* ' . ' Ha '^‘ 

" ■ ■'T-'wt'J* V ’ '-• : 

, V*. * < ^ \* ^ 'V- 

-'jd- ‘ ' >*-* 

'kV- -.^^T ■ 


. .** 


I ' 


. 4 V’.* ' *• 


• / ‘ 1 ^ V?*’. '^V ■' ^ 

• • . : • A ', ^ • . . 

> ,' ... , ' 



• t. > V •« • n 

• . ’ ' ■ . -■ 










R 

•m I 


i&Er??'^'-. /'• • . .;^.'"‘'i''’'';r'^ ’ ' 

V. w' * I s»- • ,> < •• >■ 

[s*^ .'v A ' ^ 

^•w\ -v ■■■■*- W-Cti > 

S' .ii, ■ 

*■ . _ ..• ' •. 



• ^€. ■-' 

' .<* ’' j >-■/ ! 








THE MASSACRE AT YAKUTSK. 


321 


“ What did you do when he destroyed only a part of 
an article ?” Pushkin asked. 

“ If the article would be readable after the forbidden 
matter was left out,” Dubayeff answered, “ we patched 
it up and used it ; but it very often happened that the 
matter was of no further use. In that case it was 
destroyed at once. Where changes were suggested, or 
a few lines taken out here and there, the article was 
returned to the man who wrote it, so that he could 
throw it into shape.” 

“It must have happened sometimes,” Pushkin 
remarked, “ that a great part of the work you had pre- 
pared was rejected. How did the paper fill its columns 
in that case ?” 

“ That didn’t give much trouble,” was the reply. 
“We always had a large amount of what the printers 
call ‘ standing matter,’ which had been approved by the 
censor, and when much of our work in a day was 
marked out, we fell back upon the reserved stock already 
in type. This consisted of stories, descriptive articles, 
editorials about feeding cattle, making roads, killing 
fleas on dogs, or other subjects that could not be 
regarded as breeders of discontent among the subjects 
of the Czar or ‘prejudical to social order.' ” 

“ Did the censor stay at the office till the paper went 
to press ?” 

“ No, he went home after returning the proof-slips. 
After he had gone we couldn’t insert a single item of 
news or an advertisement of a horse for sale or a cook 
wanting a situation. Nothing could go in the paper 
without the censor’s approval, no matter what might be 
its importance. 

“ Treatment of this sort is very apt to give an editor 
a feeling of contempt for the government, and more 




THEl SISERIAI^ EXtLRS. 


than one who has started out on his career with the 
most unbounded loyalty has ended by becoming an 
advanced liberal and having his paper suppressed for 
‘ untrustworthiness.’ I’ve known several cases of 
exactly that sort. 

“ Sometimes they stop the circulation of a paper 
when everything in it has been approved by the cen- 
sor. An official higher in authority discovers some- 
thing wrong, and we get orders to stop the sale of 
copies and burn all we have on hand at the time. All 
copies that can be found are seized and destroyed, and 
the government rests in peace. The same thing hap- 
pens with books, and whole editions have been officially 
burned after the censor had consented to their publica- 
tion. But the books circulate in manuscript, and the 
ideas, aspirations, thoughts and hopes of the writers 
live and grow and have their effect.” 

The government endeavored by every means in its 
power to prevent the news of the massacre at Yakutsk, 
and the floggings at Kara, from reaching the outer 
world, as well as from their being known outside of the 
localities where they occurred. We have seen how its 
efforts were unsuccessful. Truth is mighty and will 
prevail. 

One day a soldier, who came to aid in the “ verifica- 
tion ” of the number of prisoners, managed to intimate 
to Pushkin that he had a communication for him. He 
was unable to deliver it at the time, but during the 
course of the day the precious missive was placed in 
the prisoner’s hands. It was in cipher, and he did not 
know the key-word. As he looked at the paper on 
which it was written, his heart sank within him, as he 
did not see how he would be able to ascertain its pur- 
port. 


THE MASSACRE AT YAKUTSK, 


323 


Dubayeff came to his aid with a practical suggestion. 

“ Can you tell by the shape of the letters, or any other 
indication, from whom this note has come ?” 

“ I think it is from my son, but I don’t know posi- 
tively.” 

“Very well,” Dubayeff responded. “Let us start 
with the supposition that he wrote it. What’s his 
name ?” 

“ Ivan. Ivan Carlovitch.” 

“All right. Let us try ‘ Ivan ’ and see how we come 
out. It’s a custom we have where no key-word is un- 
derstood between us, that we will use the first name, of 
the writer.” 

They made the trial and sure enough the guess was 
correct. “ Ivan ” was the key- word. 



CHAPTER XXXIIL 

AFFAIRS AT HOME. 

Necessarily the letter was brief, as it was on a small 
scrap of paper and closely written on both sides. It 
gave Pushkin the first information that his son and his 
neighbor Hartmann had been exiled to Siberia, and it 
also contained news from home to the effect that his 
wife and children were deeply mourning his absence 
and lamenting the cruelties they knew he must be 
undergoing. There was also a hint that Alexei Hart- 
mann was in St. Petersburg, endeavoring in some way 
to unravel the mystery which surrounded his family 
and that of the girl to whom he was betrothed. 

Pushkin’s joy at receiving news from his family was 
saddened by the knowledge that his son was, like him- 
self, a forced inhabitant of Siberia, and, that his friend 
and neighbor, Hartmann, had suffered a similar mis- 
fortune. But he took consolation from the fact that 
they were not degraded and tortured by chains and 
the insults and cruelties of Kara, and, in comparing their 
condition with his, he felt that it would be the height of 
happiness if he could share his son’s exile, and be 
relieved from the horrors of the Trans-Baikal province 
and its mines and prisons. 

[324] 


AFFAIRS AT HOME. 


325 


Happily for his peace of mind, he did know of Ivan’s 
banishment to the Yakut village in the far north ; the 
letter was written in the town where Ivan was living 
with Dr. Shulmann and other administrative exiles, 
before the exercise of “ pernicious public activity "that 
led to his transfer to a far more inhospitable place. 

All the night after receiving the letter Pushkin lay 
awake, pondering upon the varied misfortunes that had 
fallen upon himself and his family and friends. His 
conscience was deeply troubled to think that his neigh- 
bor, Hartmann, had suffered as we have seen, solely 
because he endeavored to aid one who was in trouble. 
Repeatedly he wept as he thought of this, and in the 
morning Dubayeff asked why his eyes were so red and 
what had caused his tears to flow. 

Pushkin told him, whereupon Dubayeff said : 

“ Friendship in Russia is more dangerous than any- 
where else in the world. Elsewhere it may possibly 
result in loss of social position, or of money, but this is 
about the worst that can befall us. Here, in Russia, it 
often means imprisonment, separation from family, 
home, and everything else that we prize, together with 
financial ruin, exile, years of suffering, and death at 
last. When we reflect upon what friendship may 
bring, we may well wonder why anybody ever allows 
himself to form an attachment for any one else, or to 
perform a single kindly act.” 

“ Yes, you are right,” replied Pushkin, “ but on the 
other hand, should not our friendships be stronger than 
anywhere else in the world, for the reason that they are 
so much more precious ? There is an old adage to the 
effect that ‘ What costs nothing is worth nothing 
surely that cannot be said of our friendships, when they 
cost US all so dearly as they do,” 


326 


THE SIBEEIAN EXILES. 


Dubayeff admitted the force of the argument. The 
entrance of their keepers at this point put an end to 
the dialogue. 

There was nothing in the letter from Ivan to indicate 
that Pushkin’s whereabouts was known to his wife and 
daughter, and he was left in doubt as to whether they 
had received the two or three letters he had sent to 
them by the “ Underground Mail.” In these missives, 
which were very brief, he had purposely avoided giv- 
ing any account of his sufferings, as he did not wish 
to cause them more mental pain than was abso- 
lutely necessary ; he simply said that he was at the 
Kara prison, and had a warm friend in Dubayeff. 
In fact, he said more about his companions in misery, 
than of himself and what he was obliged to undergo. 

But this forbearance on his part, though it may have 
served to deceive Nadia, was no deception to Madame 
Pushkin. She knew from its general repute what the 
Kara prison was ; never did she hear it mentioned 
without a shudder, and day after day, and night after 
night, she thought of what her husband was suffering 
and enduring in that far away region beyond Lake 
Baikal. She knew that he had gone to Siberia in 
chains, knew that he had dragged his weary limbs for 
thousands of versts over dreary wastes, through mud 
and frost and snow, and knew also that he was an 
inmate of the prison whose name has been for more 
than a century a terror throughout the length and 
breadth of Russia. 

She had thought and wept and prayed and lamented 
through all that weary time. Well was it that she was 
a woman of great strength of character, and had the 
consolation and support of her daughter’s presence, or 
she might have yielded to despair and welcomed death 


AFFAIKS AT HOME. 


327 


as a relief from her sorrow. Hope and faith were hers, 
and in her darkest hours she was sustained by the 
belief that all would yet be well. Every cloud, despite 
its blackness, had a silver lining- ; every night, however 
gloomy, was followed by the sunrise and the glorious 
light of day. 

From time to time she instructed Mr. Kosavitch, the 
lawyer at Tambov, to send money through the hands 
of the officials to the mines of Kara, where it was to be 
expended in the purchase of such comforts for Pushkin 
as the rules of the prison would permit him to have. 
Of these remittances not one in five was ever heard of 
afterwards ; we have elsewhere seen how the prison 
officials and attendants rob the unfortunates under 
their care, and their conduct towards Pushkin was no 
exception to the rule. She devoted much of her time 
to the care of the estate, and in the hope of keeping it 
in good condition against the time of her husband’s 
return, she found a partial solace of her grief. 

Nadia’s affection was most tender and devoted ; the 
love that she bore for father, mother and brother, 
seemed to be concentrated on the only one of the three 
that remained at home. But this must not be under- 
stood as saying that the others were forgotten, or were 
less in her thoughts than ever before. Morning and 
night her prayers rose for them both and she shared 
her mother’s hope that they would some day be again 
under the roof where they had passed so many happy 
hours. Night and day her thoughts were concentrated 
upon measures for their release and return, and it is 
needless to say they always included the father of the 
young man to whom her hand and heart were pledged. 

She was in frequent correspondence with Alexei 
Hartmann, but owing to the possibility of their letters 


328 


THE SIBERIAN EXILES. 


being examined, the missives of both were of a more 
formal character than is usually the case with notes that 
pass between young lovers. There were vows of eternal 
fidelity, and many tender words ; now and then there 
were allusions to the unfortunates beyond the Ural 
Mountains, and ardent hopes in their behalf, but never 
was there any reference to the real object of Alexei’s 
mission to the capital of the empire, and the progress, 
or the lack of it, that he was making towards the desired 
end. 

Whatever information she received on this subject 
was obtained from Mr. Kosavitch, who occasionally 
visited them to consult Madame Pushkin concerning 
business matters connected with the estate, and to con- 
sider any possible means of benefitting the exiled 
father and son. Nadia repeatedly sought an interview 
with him apart from her mother, but it was a long time 
before a favorable opportunity occurred. 

One day, when the lawyer came, Madame Pushkin 
was away at the house of a neighbor. Nadia received 
him with her accustomed grace of manner, and after a 
few polite preliminaries she came at once to the subject 
that was nearest her heart. 

“ Do you think, Mr. Kosavitch, that I could go to 
Siberia ?” she suddenly asked. 

“ What !” he exclaimed. You go to Siberia ? Impos- 
sible, unless the government sends you there. Abso- 
lutely impossible.” 

'‘But couldn’t I go and comfort dear father. He 
needs some one to comfort him, I’m sure he does.” 

“ Yes, my dear child, that is quite true ; but your 
mother needs your comfort and care. You do not know 
how dear you are to her, and how lonely she would be 
without you.” 


AFFAIRS AT HOME. 


329 


“ Wouldn’t the knowledge that I had gone to be at 
father’s side console her for my absence ?” 

“ Perhaps it might, but it could not fill your place. 
And think of what a terrible journey it would be for a 
young girl to go to the mines of Kara, alone and unpro- 
tected.” 

“I have thought of that,” Nadia answered, “ and know 
it would be a great hardship. But I feel that I could 
accomplish it, and perhaps I could find some one who 
was going there on just such a mission as mine. That’s 
one thing I wanted to ask you about ; do you know of 
any woman who is going to Kara to join her husband, 
son or daughter, there 

“No, I do not,” replied the lawyer. “Let me urge 
you to drop all idea of going to Siberia, not only for the 
reasons I have given you, but because you can be of 
more real service to your father by remaining at home.” 

“ How can that be ?” she asked. 

“ In the first place, you will be a comfort to your 
mother, and what comforts her will be a service to him. 
I feel confident that in some way you will have an 
opportunity to unravel the mystery that surrounds your 
father, and bring him back to you once again ; his return 
will bring Ivan and Mr. Hartmann home, too, as they 
were sent into exile for no faults of their own, but on 
your father’s account. I have been working in every 
way I could to bring light out of darkness thus far I 
have not made much progress, but I shall leave no 
opportunity unimproved, and hope steadily that I shall 
be able to bring you good news.” 

Then he told the girl that he was on better terms 
with the governor of Tambov than formerly, and 
expected through him to ascertain the charges against 
Carl Pushkin, which up to that time had been steadily 


330 


THE SIBERIAN EXILES. 


refused. The governor had promised to ask that they 
be sent from St. Petersburg, as they had not been sup- 
plied to him ; he had only acted upon orders, at least, so 
he said, and did not know upon what the orders were 
based. 

While he was talking on this subject, Madame Push- 
kin returned from her neighborly visit, and the busi- 
ness for which the lawyer had come was speedily con- 
cluded. It related entirely to affairs of the estate, and 
when it was concluded, the conversation naturally 
turned upon the subject in which all were so much in- 
terested— that of the exile of Carl Pushkin and his 
son. 

Nadia rose to leave, but her mother told the girl to 
remain. The latter resumed her seat, and then, with 
some hesitation, related what she had been saying to 
Mr. Kosavitch. 

“ I didn’t intend to deceive you in any way, dearest 
mother,” she said, “ but I have been thinking of this for 
some time, and wished to have the views of our good 
friend, Mr. Kosavitch, on the subject, before I mentioned 
it to you.. Now I have talked with him, and am keep- 
ing my little secret no longer.” 

She turned to the lawyer, who repeated what he had 
said when Nadia mentioned her plan of going to Siberia. 
The mother listened in a sort of dazed way, as if she 
could hardly believe what she was hearing, and while 
she listened, Nadia moved to her side, and threw her 
arm lovingly around her neck. 

“ You are a good, noble, dutiful girl,” said the mother, 
kissing her child as she clasped her to her heart. “ You 
were ready to brave everything for love of your father, 
and in the hope of bringing him back to us. But Mr. 
Kosavitch is right ; you had best remain here at home, 


0 


AFFAIRS AT HOME. 


331 


to comfort and help me, and take whatever opportunity 
offers of restoring your father to his home. I could not 
bear to have you go ; I should be lonely. Oh ! so lonely, 
and the thought that you were in peril, through all that 
long journey, would drive me wild. I have need of all 
my strength, and of all that you can give, to help me 
bear up to the end. Do not think of going away from 
me ; drop all thought of it, and Fm sure that when your 
father hears of it, he will approve most heartily the 
advice of our good friend.” 

“ I shall do as you say, dear mother, and I should 
have done nothing without your approval.” 

“ I understand, my child. I have known that some- 
thing was in your thoughts, and felt sure you had an 
idea of a noble and heroic action in your father’s 
behalf. I did not imagine that you contemplated going 
to Siberia, but thought you would some day propose to 
go to St. Petersburg and intercede with the emperor or 
the empress for your father’s pardon. I have seen you 
reading the story of ‘ Elisabeth,’ and supposed you con- 
templated following her example.” 

Madame Cottin’s charming romance, which has been 
translated into many languages, is well known in 
Russia, as it is one of the books permitted by the cen- 
sorship. Many editions have been published in Rus- 
sian, some of them liberally illustrated by the best 
artists of the country. It is no wonder that Nadia 
turned to the book in order to learn something of the 
life of exiles in Siberia, and it was but natural that the 
mother should suspect her daughter of a desire to act 
like the heroine of the story, and seek an opportunity to 
plead her father’s cause before the emperor in person. 

Mr. Kosavitch soon took his leave. His words made 
a deep impression upon Nadia, and especially the sug- 


332 


THE SIBERIAN EXILES. 


gestion that she might find the occasion to unravel the 
mystery that surrounded her father and ensure his 
return to his home. 

That night she lay awake for a long time, thinking of 
a thousand ways in which she might act. Every plan 
that she thought of was found impracticable when she 
carefully considered it, but she determined to present 
to her mother those schemes that were the least unfa- 
vorable and submit them to her mature judgment. 

The mother listened eagerly to the plans which 
Nadia had formed, but one after another she showed 
the impossibility of their success. The girl was some- 
what disappointed, but she concealed her feelings, and 
set about her daily duties as usual. Before the day 
was over she received a letter from Alexei, which she 
eagerly read, and then carried to her mother. 

The letter contained something that was destined to 
be of great importance in accomplishing their cherished 
purpose. Nadia’s opportunity to be of service to her 
father was close at hand, and, like many other opportu- 
nities in this world, it was a matter of accident. 



CHAPTER XXXIV. 

AN INFLUENTIAL FRIEND. 

Alexei’s letter was principally devoted to the account 
of an excursion down the Neva to Cronstadt on the 
occasion of a naval review. He had accompanied 
a friend on a steamboat, which was crowded with pas- 
sengers, after the customary manner of excursion steam- 
ers the world over. 

Everything went well until the return to St. Peters- 
burg. A mile or more below the city something went 
wrong with the machinery, and the boat was driven 
against the bank with a shock that made the timbers 
creak. There was a temporary panic among the passen- 
gers and, in the rush that ensued, several persons were 
pushed or thrown overbroad ; men shouted and women 
screamed, contradictory orders were given, and in the 
general excitement there seemed to be danger that 
those who had fallen into the river would be drowned 
for lack of aid. 

Among them were two women, one a middle-aged 
personage and the other a young woman of not more 
than eighteen or twenty years. Alexei had previously 
observed her as she chatted gaily with her companions, 
a woman somewhat older than herself and an old gen- 

[333] 


334 


THE SIBERIAN EXILES. 


tleman and lady, whom he took for her grandparents, 
as in fact they proved to be. 

As the boat struck the bank the young woman was 
leaning carelessly on the rail of the upper deck, and 
the suddenness of the shock, combined with her slight 
hold, caused her to fall overboard. Alexei was standing 
near her at the time of the occurrence ; he was a good 
swimmer, so good in fact that he had won several prizes 
at the competitions in the swimming-school, and when 
he saw the bright 5^oung woman fall overboard, he felt 
that here was an opportunity to put his ability in swim- 
ming to practical use. 

Throwing off his coat he sprang into the water and 
dived where she had disappeared. Clutching her cloth- 
ing he brought her to the surface, and very quickly, 
too ; she had swallowed some water, but not much, and 
in a few moments he had her close to the steamer’s side, 
whence a rope was lowered by a few of the passengers 
who had not joined in the general panic. The young 
man passed the rope beneath the woman’s arms and 
she was quickly hoisted to the lower deck. By the 
time she reached it, her friends had descended, and 
they hurried her into a cabin, where she fell into a com- 
plete faint, from which she was restored with no great 
difficulty. 

Alexei was helped to the deck of the steamer ; a boat 
was lowered to look after the other involuntary bathers, 
and it was assisted by a steam-launch that happened in 
the vicinity. The other woman who fell overboard was 
one of the first that the steam-launch rescued, and there 
was no occasion for Alexei to jump into the water again. 

The young man resumed his coat, his only dry 
garment, and was the centre of a group that testified 
its admiration of his courage and his ability as a swim- 


AN INFLUENTIAL FRIEND. 


335 


mer, in no stinted terms. In a little while the old 
gentleman rushed out of the cabin, and as he neared the 
group he exclaimed : 

“ Where’s the man that saved my grand-daughter 

“Here he is,” half a dozen voices responded at once. 
As the propounder of the question came nearer the 
crowd opened and made way for him, so that he had no 
difficulty in reaching the object of his search. The 
water that dripped from Alexei’s garments showed very 
plainly that he was the rescuer. 

“ I can’t thank you enough,” said the old gentleman, 
taking the youth by both hands. “ Had it not been for 
you the poor girl might have drowned. Did you know 
who she was ?” 

“ Not at all,” replied Alexei. “ I only saw it was a 
woman that had fallen overboard, and her life was in 
danger. I acted upon the impulse that every good 
swimmer should have, and does have, under such cir- 
cumstances, and you know the rest.” 

“You perilled your own life,” said the other, “as 
you might have been dragged under by some of those 
in the water, or even by the woman you saved. Many 
a good swimmer would not have been as ready to jump 
overboard for a tojtal stranger as you were. And so 
you don’t know who it was you saved,” he continued, in 
a paternal air. “ What is your name 

“ Alexei Hartmann.” 

“ Where do you live ?” 

“ Number — Alexandroffski Ulitza. That is where 
my rooms are in St. Petersburg, but my home is in 
Province Tambov.” 

“ Ah ! Alexei Hartmann, of Province Tambov,” said 
the old gentleman, as though talking to himself and 


336 


THE SIBERIAN EXILES. 


fixing the name in his memory. Then, turning to 
Alexei, he said : 

“ I am General Kolaskoff, retired from active ser- 
vice, but not out of use altogether. Here is my card. 
An old general may be of service, perhaps, to a young 
man like you ; if he can’t do anything more he can give 
him advice. Come and see me to-morrow, and mean- 
while, think if I can repay you in any way for the great 
service you have done to me. That girl you saved is 
my grand-daughter, and she’s a precious darling if ever 
there was one. I want to see you at my house, and 
she’ll want to tell you how much she appreciates your 
action.” 

Alexei took the card and thanked the donor, who 
went away to see how his grand-daughter was getting 
along. The disability to the steamer was such that 
she was unable to proceed, and the passengers were 
transferred to other boats that were returning from the 
excursion and had room for a few extras. Alexei 
managed to get on the first boat that stopped, and in a 
little while he was at home and had exchanged his wet 
garments for dry ones. 

He slept late, and before he was dressed on the fol- 
lowing morning there was a rap at the door of his room. 
The caller proved to be a tailor, who said he had come 
to take the gentleman’s measure for a suit of clothes. 

“ But I haven’t ordered any clothes,” said Alexei ; 
“ it must be some other tenant in the building. You’ve 
made a mistake.” 

“ Your High Nobility’s pardon,” said the tailor, bow- 
ing. “ I came to measure Alexei Hartmann, of Province 
Tambov, now living here in this house.” 

“ I am Alexei Hartmann, of Province Tambov, but 


AN INFLUENTIAL FRIEND. 


337 


I've not ordered a tailor to come here and, moreover, 
I’m not a High Nobility.” 

“ I am the tailor of General Kolaskoff,” said the other, 
as he drew himself up proudly, “ and the general sent 
me to measure you for a suit of clothes to replace the 
one ruined' by the river yesterday. I am to take 
away the old suit and carry it to the general, who wants 
to keep it as a souvenir.” 

The young man’s impulse was to close the door 
in the tailor’s face, but a moment’s reflection taught 
him that he would act unwisely by so doing. He had 
determined to apply to the general for aid in the 
matter that brought him to the capital ; evidently, the 
veteran had his own way of doing things, and it would 
be best to humor him even at the sacrifice of a little 
pride. Besides, the old fellow wanted the ruined 
clothes. What he would do with them it was difficult to 
guess, as a set of masculine garments is not a pictur- 
esque article to frame and hang in one’s parlor, and 
altogether too large to be set as a brooch or a watch - 
charm. His demand for them was a “ saving clause,’' 
and so Alexei admitted the tailor and told him to go on 
with his measurement. 

The tailor wished to make something in the highest 
style of his art, and hinted that here was an opportunity 
for the youth to be the owner of the most gorgeous 
raiment known to the great city. But he was disap- 
pointed, when, in spite of repeated urging and the 
assurance that the general was rich beyond computa- 
tion, Alexei ordered a suit of clothing of no better 
quality than the one in which he rescued the maiden 
from the engulfing river. 

Verily Alexei builded wiser than he knew. General 


338 


THE SIBERIAN EXILES. 


Kolaskoff had instructed the tailor to urge a liberal draft 
on his purse, and to take any orders the young man chose 
to give. He was also to go straight from Alexei to the 
general and report the result of his interview ; when 
the latter heard the story, he smiled satisfactorily, and 
said to himself : 

“ That’s an honest young fellow, and if I can help him 
in any way, I will.” 

At the proper hour for making his call, Alexei was at 
the door of the general’s house, and promptly admit- 
ted. He was cordially received by the general, who 
presented him to the ladies of the family, and to 
others who were in the parlors at the time he arrived. 
The young woman for whom he had leaped into the 
water was not in the parlors, but she was sent for and 
soon appeared. She added her thanks to those of the 
old gentleman, and had evidently made up a pretty 
speech, which she delivered with the ease for which 
Russian ladies are famed. She said she was not fully 
recovered from the effects of her sudden immersion, but 
hoped to be so in a day or two. They chatted for a few 
minutes, and then her attention was drawn towards sev- 
eral visitors, who had heard of her mishap, and came to 
congratulate her on her escape from drowning. 

Then the general turned to Alexei and asked him to 
step into his ‘ bureau,’ which was on the side of the hall 
opposite the parlors. Alexei followed, and when they 
were seated, the old officer came to the point at once. 

“ You are a young man here in St. Petersburg, but 
not a resident. Are you here for any purpose in which 
I can be of assistance ? I like you ; I want to show that 
I appreciate what you did yesterday, and you may talk 
with me just as freely as with your own father.” 


AK INFLUENTIAL FEIEND. 


339 


At the last words, ‘your own father,’ the color came 
into Alexei’s face, and then quickly faded out. The 
sharp eye of the general observed the change ; he smiled 
and nodded as an encouragement to the youth to pro- 
ceed. 

“ Thank you, very much indeed,” replied Alexei. “ I 
will be frank with you, frank as with my own father, 
and it concerns him that I am in St. Petersburg.” 

Then he told the Story of which we already know, of 
the arrest and exile to Kara of Carl Pushkin, the arrest 
of Hartmann and Ivan Pushkin, and the subsequent 
banishment as sylni, the arrest, imprisonment and 
subsequent release of mother and daughter, told how 
he was engaged to Nadia, and that he had come to St. 
Petersburg in the hope that he might ascertain in some 
way the cause of the calamities that had fallen upon 
the houses of Pushkin and Hartmann. That none of 
the banished persons had done aught to justify their 
fate he was as certain as of his own existence ; he had 
tried to obtain employment in the office of the Minister 
of the Interior, so that he might ascertain in the proper 
way the nature of the charges under which they had 
been arrested and exiled. Thus far he had not suc- 
ceeded, though he had partial promise of admission to 
a vacancy before a great while. 

“ I can help you in this matter,” said the general, 
grasping Alexei’s hand. “ But don’t be too sure of the 
future, as it may reveal something more than you 
expect.” 

“ Whatever it reveals I will accept without com- 
plaint,” was the reply. “ I am as sure as I am that we 
are here, that there has been a great mistake somewhere, 
and that it will be shown by the records to whoever can 
reach them.” 


340 


THE SIBERIAN EXILES. 


“ I can and will reach them,” said the general, as 
he rose and thereby intimated that the interview was 
ended. “ Come to-morrow, an hour later than to-day.” 

Alexei went away feeling lighter at heart than for 
months. The object for which he had come to the cap- 
ital was about to be realized. Until late at night he 
wrote in his room, sending letters to his mother, to 
Nadia, and to the lawyer at Tambov. 

He was in his room on the following morning when 
a servant came from General Kolaskoff, bearing a large 
parcel packed for shipment by railway. With the par- 
cel was a note, which said that Mademoiselle had 

learned from her grandfather that Mr. Hartmann was 
engaged to Miss Nadia Pushkin, of Province Tambov. 
Mademoiselle had asked and obtained her grandfather’s 
and her mother’s as.sent to send the accompanying 
dressing-case to Mr. Hartmann, with the request that 
he send it to his betrothed, with the expression of 

Mademoiselle ’s wish that it would be accepted as 

a token of the gratitude of one who felt that she owed 
her life to Mr. Hartmann’s courage and ability. 

Such a delicate offer could not possibly be declined. 
Alexei despatched the box immediately, without open- 
ing it to look at is contents, and wrote to Nadia con- 
cerning it. He inclosed in his letter the note that came 
to him with the box, as the best possible explanation 
he could give of the circumstance, and then went out 
to call on some friends, before getting ready for his 
visit to the general. And the first of these was Mr. 
Lodoff, whom the reader will remember as the wealthy 
contractor, to whom Alexei brought a letter of intro- 
duction. 

Alexei told him all that had occurred. When his 
story was ended, Mr. Lodoff said : 


AN INFLUENTIAL FRIEND. 


341 


“ I congratulate you most heartily on the new friend 
you have made. General Kolaskoff is a man of great 
influence with the Interior Department, and can obtain 
anything within reason that he asks for. When you 
see him, refer to me, as I know him very well. Stop, I 
will write a letter which you can hand him, and that 
will be better than any verbal message.” 

Mr. Lodoff wrote a warm letter, commending the 
5^oung man as honorable and truthful in every way, 
and he added, that it was his firm belief that none of 
the three exiles, on whose behalf he was acting, had 
ever done anything to merit the treatment they had 
received. He judged from his general knowledge of 
their character, that they were not at all likely to in- 
dulge in any revolutionary measures, or take any action 
unfriendly to the government. 

When Alexei delivered the letter, the general read it 
carefully and then tore it into many fragments before 
consigning it to his waste-basket. He gave a nod of 
approval and remarked that he was glad his favorable 
opinion of his new acquaintance was so heartily con- 
firmed by an old one. 

Then he came to the subject of the exiles. “ I find 
there is nothing against your father and young Push- 
kin,” said he, “ except that your father is an intimate 
friend of Carl Pushkin and Ivan is his son. Those 
were the reasons for the arrest and banishment.” 

“ But is there anything wrong about Ivan’s father ?” 
Alexei asked. 

“ I am sorry to say there is,” replied the general in a 
kindly tone. “ He seems to have been a troublesome 
revolutionist ; he was concerned in plots against the 
life of His Majesty the Emperor, he was an active 
member of the terrorist party, and the murder of 


342 


THE SIBERIAN EXILES. 


Colonel Metsovitch was traced to him. He did not fire 
the shot, but he supplied the weapon with which the 
colonel was killed, and he assisted the murderer to 
escape. That is the record against him.” 

Impossible !” exclaimed the young man, “ I’m 
sure there is a great mistake somewhere.” 

“ It does honor to your friendship for the father of 
the girl to whom you are engaged that you believe so, 
but I am afraid there is no mistake. The record 
against him is very clear.” 

Alexei’s face fell and tears welled from his eyes. 

The general assumed not to see the tears, but calmly 
continued : 

“It will take a day or two for the formalities, and I 
cannot say exactly when the papers will be ready. 
The department is making further inquiries about your 
father and young Pushkin, and if nothing is found 
against them, beyond what I have told you, orders will 
be issued for their release.” 

“ Thank you, thank you, a thousand times,” said 
Alexei, his voice choking with emotion as he grasped 
the old gentleman’s hand. After a pause, he asked : 

“ And can you cause further inquiries to be made 
about Carl Pushkin, and what he has done ? Oh I I 
beg and implore that you will.” 

“ Yes, I certainly will do so. Come here day after 
to-morrow, unless I send for you sooner. Come at the 
same time as to-day. But don’t expect favorable news, 
as the case against Carl Pushkin is certainly very bad.” 

Alexei rose to go. He was near the door, when he 
suddenly recalled a part of his mission, and turned back. 

“ Please present to your grand-daughter my thanks 
for her kind remembrance of my fiande, from whom 
she will certainly hear as soon as her handsome present 


AN INFLUENTIAL FRIEND. 


M3 


reaches Tambov and the time has elapsed for a reply. 
The box and the letter that came with it are already on 
their way.” 

The general smiled, and said he would do as requested, 
and then the visitor departed. 

Let us follow the box, and see w’^hat came of it. 



CHAPTER XXXV. 

THE MYSTERY REVEALED. 

Alexei’s letter arrived several hours in advance of the 
box ; the excitement in Nadia’s mind over the contents 
of the former was at fever-heat when the latter was 
brought to the house. 

No time was lost in opening it. As the cover was 
torn off and the wrappings were removed, a dressing- 
case of polished rosewood was brought to light The 
contents of the case were such as would delight a prin- 
cess, how much more then were they pleasing to the eye 
of a Russian maiden who had never lived the life of a 
princess, or aspired to anything of the kind The entire 
household was assembled to look at the wonderful gift 
that had come from the capital city, and the air 
resounded with expressions of astonishment and admira- 
tion. 

Lying inside the case was a note in the handwriting 
of the donor, asking the recipient to accept the token 
of friendship from a stranger, and receive the stranger s 
congratulations at her possession of the love of a young 
man who had shown himself a hero. Nadia laughed, 
[344J 


THE MYSTERY REVEALED. 


345 


and danced, and cried with delight, as she read the note, 
and wondered what she would say in reply. 

The box containing the dressing-case was about to 
be sent to the receptacle for rubbish, the papers that 
had been wrapped around the case and stuffed into the 
box to wedge everything tightly, were gathered up and 
heaped together, and already a servant had taken the 
bundle in his arms to remove it, when Nadia espied 
several newspapers along with the brown paper. 
Newspapers did not come often to the house, and as 
these might prove interesting, she ordered them saved. 
They were carefully taken out and placed on the table 
where the dressing-case stood. 

It was several hours before Nadia could leave her 
new treasure long enough to look at the newspapers. 
When she did so,, she found some copies of the leading 
journals of St. Petersburg of a recent date, and half a 
dozen French and Swiss publications. She had never 
seen a newspaper from Switzerland, and her girlish 
curiosity was at once drawn to the Journal de Gen'eve. 

She glanced over its columns carelessly, reading a 
few lines here and there, paying more attention to the 
advertisements than to anything else, and was about to 
lay the paper aside for another, when her eye caught an 
item of local news, which she read intently. She rubbed 
her eyes and read again, and then sprang from her 
chair and ran to her mother’s room. 

“Oh ! mother,” she almost screamed, as she dashed 
through the door. “ See what I have found in the 
Journal de Genevel' 

Then she read the following, which she rendered into 
Russian from the French in which the newspaper was 
printed : 


346 


THE SIBEEIAN EXILES. 


“ The man who was drowned in the boating accident 
near Hermance two days ago will be buried to-day, this 
afternoon, at three o’clock, from the Russian chapel in 
the Rue Sturm. His body was recovered last evening. 
He was a native of Rostov, where he was identified with 
the revolutionary party, with which he is said to have 
been very active. He fled from Russia two years ago 
to escape arrest upon charges which would have exiled 
him to Siberia for life. He has lived here very quietly 
under the assumed name of Feodor Domorski, and his 
identity was known to but few persons, even among his 
compatriots. His real name was Carl Pushkin.” 

“What do you think of that, mother ?” said Nadia as 
she drew breath after reading the paragraph and sank 
into a chair. 

The mother was so excited that for a minute or more 
she was unable to speak. When her words came, she 
said : 

“ Heaven has heard our prayers at last, let us hope. 
The Carl Pushkin who was drowned at Hermance may 
be the one for whom your dear father is now in the 
mines of Kara.” 

Then she sprang to her feet and summoned a ser- 
vant. 

“ Order the tarantass and horses ready to go at once to 
Tambov,” she commanded. “ Nadia, dress for a ride 
to the city ; I shall go with you, and we will have Joseph 
on the box with the driver. Take the paper with you, 
and be careful not to lose it. Your father’s return to 
us may depend upon it.” 

The mother’s precautionary advice concerning the 
paper was entirely unnecessary. Nadia would have 
preserved the paper as carefully as though it repre- 


THE MYSTERY REVEALED. 


347 


sen ted the wealth of a principality or the ransom of a 
king, yes, it was to h-er the ransom of a king, for what 
king could be more precious to her than the father she 
loved ? 

By the time the women were dressed for their journey 
the horses with the tarantass stood at the door. Joseph 
saw that his charges were properly bestowed in their 
respective corners of the vehicle, and then he sprang 
upon the box at the side of the driver and gave the 
order to start. 

Away went the steeds. Joseph knew that speed 
was an object ; he had caused a troika (three horses 
abreast), to be harnessed, and they were the best horses 
in the stables. Off they went at their best speed, but 
in spite of their rapidity Joseph repeatedly shouted 
^ Poshol (Faster) ’ to the driver, whose arm obtained 
active exercise through free use of the whip. 

As they neared Tambov, Joseph turned to the occu- 
pants of the tarantass and asked where they wished 
to go. 

“ Domu Kosavitch,” was the reply. And so they 
went straight to the house of the lawyer, who has 
figured so prominently in the case. As the panting and 
sweating horses were brought to a halt, Joseph rapped 
at the door and asked for that gentleman. 

Fortunately the lawyer was at home. It was his 
usual evening for going to the club, but something had 
detained him, and now he was very glad of the deten- 
tion. 

The ladies descended from the carriage and entered 
the house. The horses were sent to a stable and the 
men were to find lodgings wherever it suited them. It 
was the intention of the ladies to spend the night at the 


348 


THE SIBERIAN EXILES. 


hotel, but the Kosavitch family would listen to nothing 
of the sort. 

We’ll talk of that later,” said Madame Pushkin ; 
“ here’s something more important than whether we 
sleep here or at the hotel.” 

Then she briefly told about the present for Nadia, 
from the young woman whom Alexei had rescued, the 
finding of the newspaper, and the important paragraph 
it contained. Nadia unfolded the paper and read the 
translation as it has already been given. 

“ That is certainly very important,” said the lawyer. 
“ It was a fortunate thing that the box was packed in 
the general’s house, and not at the shop where the 
dressing-case was bought.” 

“ Why so ?” 

“ Because the paper would have been mutilated if it 
had been addressed to a shopkeeper ; the censor would 
have obliterated a paragraph referring to a revolution- 
ist, lest it might give information to his friends, or for 
some other reason best known to himself. But papers 
may go to a high official, like General Kolaskoff, without 
being opened, and so I say it was very fortunate.” 

Then he looked at the clock in the room, and asked 
his wife to bring him the time-table of the railway. 
She brought it at once, and he was immediately absorbed 
in studying it. 

It was quickly arranged that he would take the night 
train for Moscow and St. Petersburg, and in the morn- 
ing his wife would send a telegram to Alexei, telling him 
to meet Mr. Kosavitch at the station on his arrival. The 
lawyer pinned the precious newspaper in his most inner 
pocket, along with some other documents which he took 
from his desk. His travelling bag was hastily packed, 
and then he jumped into a droshky that had been called 


THE MYSTERY REVEALED. 


349 


to the door, and was whirled away to the station just in 
time to catch the train. 

From Moscow he telegraphed to Lodoff to meet him 
at the station in St. Petersburg. That gentleman was 
promptly on hand, nearly half an hour before the train 
was due. He W''as somewhat surprised to find Alexei 
impatiently walking the platform, but the mystery was 
partially explained when Alexei showed the telegram he 
had received. 

“It has something to do with the business between 
you and the general,” said Mr. Lodoff. “ He did not have 
time to receive 3^our last letter, and I can’t imagine what 
has brought him. Perhaps there have been some 
important discoveries at Tambov, that we know nothing 
about.” 

His surmise was certainly correct, as we have reason 
to know. 

It w-as about eight o’clock in the morning when the 
train from Moscow rolled into the great station at St. 
Petersburg and Mr. Kosavitch alighted. The three men 
immediately entered Mr. Lodoff’s carriage and were 
driven to that gentleman’s house, where a substantial 
breakfast awaited them. On the way from the station 
the lawyer told about the finding of the newspaper, and 
what it contained, and before they reached the house it 
was arranged that Alexei should send a note to General 
Kolaskoff soliciting the favor of an early interview on 
a matter of great importance, and permission to bring 
with him the two gentlemen whom he named. 

The note was sent, and in due time the messenger 
returned with a letter from the general. It bore a large 
seal and the crest of that dignitary. Alexei’s hand 
trembled as he opened the portentous document, and 
he was greatly relieved to find that his request had 


350 


THE SIBEEIAN EXILES. 


been granted. The general’s missive had all the brev- 
ity of a telegram. It read as follows : 

“ Certainly — come at 11.30 and bring your friends. 

Kolaskoff.” 

Promptly, at the time named, they were at the gen- 
eral’s door and were taken at once to his office, where the 
veteran received them cordially. The story was briefly 
told, the paper was produced, and as the general looked 
at it, he remarked that he had a faint recollection of see- 
ing the paragraph, but very naturally he did not regard 
it as of any consequence at the time. His only regret 
was that all the Russian refugees in Geneva had not 
been with the victim of that boating accident and shared 
his fate. 

“ Leave this paper with me,” said he, “and go your- 
self to Mr. Lodoff s house and wait there till I send for 
you. I may not send for you to-day, and yet I may do 
so. If you don’t hear from me by to-morrow at eleven, 
come here without waiting any longer.” 

They thanked him and made their adieux. As they 
were leaving the house, they heard him give an order 
to his secretary to call his carriage at once. 

While they are waiting, we will follow him and see 
what he does. 

He went straight to the office of the Minister of the 
Interior and asked for the papers in the ease of Carl 
Pushkin. Then he telegraphed to the Russian consul 
at Geneva, and to the governor of Rostov, asking for 
information about the individual in question, and 
requesting a reply by telegraph at the earliest possible 
moment. The governor replied in the course of the 
day, but the consul’s telegram did not come until the 
following morning, about ten o’clock. Immediately on 


TSbJ MYSTERf REPEALED. 


351 


receiving it, the general ordered his carriage and went 
again to the ministry, leaving word for the three gen- 
tlemen who called the day before to wait for him in 
case he had not returned when they arrived. 

They waited nearly an hour, as the general did not 
return until a few minutes before noon. He came in 
with his face all aglow, as though he had been undergoing 
violent exercise, and with a smile playing all over his 
features. He shook hands with his visitors cordially, 
and motioning them to be seated, dropped into a chair 
at his desk. 

“ I have done the heaviest morning’s work Tve known 
for a long time,” said he, “ and it isn’t over yet. I’m 
going again this afternoon for some documents that 
are being prepared, and when they are signed, I shall 
have the pleasure of handing them to you. 

“ But never mind the documents,” he continued with 
scarcely a pause. “ Everything is being pushed for- 
ward as rapidly as possible, and a telegram has gone to 
Kara from the Minister of the Interior, telling Carl 
Pushkin that he is a free man. Unless there has been 
some delay in the working of the lines, he knows it now. 
Telegrams have also gone ordering the release of your 
father,” said he, turning to Alexei, “ and of Ivan Push- 
kin, and they will be sent back to their homes at once.” 

Alexei tried to speak, but there was a lump in his 
throat that held back the words. The general saved 
him from embarrassment by continuing : 

“Carl Pavloff, surnamed Pushkin, of Rostov, who 
was drowned near Geneva, was the man for whose mis- 
deeds Carl Pavloff, surnamed Pushkin, of Tambov, was 
sent to Siberia. He disappeared after the assassination 
of Colonel Metsovitch, and no trace of him was found 
for some time ; then it was learned that he was living 


35^ 


THE SIBERIAN EXILES. 


near Tambov, and orders were sent for his arrest. You 
know the rest. I know what you are probably think- 
ing, but don’t say it ; we won’t have any discussions on 
that subject. Let bygones be bygones.” 

They could have said a great deal about the injustice 
of sending a man into exile for life without trial, and 
without even allowing him or his family to know the 
charges against him. Mr. Kosavitch had a very 
emphatic speech on this subject ready in his mind, and 
doubtless he would have spoken had he not been fore- 
stalled by General Kolaskoff. 

“Your friends will be allowed to return immedi- 
ately,” the general continued. “ They will be supplied 
with money for their expenses, and will have pader- 
oshnias (road-passes) of the highest class, so that they 
can travel at courier speed. And now, is there any- 
thing more that can be done in their behalf ?” 

There was a moment’s pause, and then Mr. Kosavitch 
spoke. 

“ Carl Pavloff has mentioned a friend and companion, 
named Dubayeff, to whom he is greatly attached. May 
we ask for his release, so that he can accompany our 
friend on his way home ?” 

“ Dubayeff, let me see,” said the general, musingly. 
“ Ah ! yes, I think I remember the name. A trouble- 
some subject, unless I’m mistaken.” 

Then he paused and thought while the others main- 
tained a respectful silence. The room was as still as 
though it had been unoccupied. 

“ Well, yes, Dubayeff may be released and have a safe 
conduct to accompany Pushkin to Tambov, where he 
must report to the governor. In the meantime, his case 
shall be carefully examined ; he may receive a full 
pardon, he may be returned to Siberia, or he may be 


THE MYSTERY REVEALED. 


353 


conducted to the frontier and forbidden to return to or 
remain in RuSvSia. If he is returned to Siberia, he will 
be escorted by an officer and treated as a high-class mis- 
demeanant until he reaches the place where his sen- 
tence is to be completed. All will depend upon the 
history of his case. Mind, I don’t promise anything 
absolutely, but that’s what I’ll urge the minister to 
grant.” 

All the listeners saw the justice of this decision, and 
at once assented to it. They were profuse in their 
thanks, but the general insisted that he was still their 
debtor, as he would always be under great obligations to 
Alexei for his conduct at the steamboat accident. 

In a few minutes they took their leave. Alexei tele- 
graphed the state of affairs to the parties at and near 
Tambov most interested in them, and Mr. Kosavitch 
took the evening train for home. He was followed two 
days later by Alexei, who carried the pardons of the 
three exiles, which he had received from the old gen- 
eral’s hands. The young man wondered how it was 
possible to grant a pardon to one who has done no 
wrong, but he prudently refrained from propounding 
this conundrum to his benefactor, lest he might give 
offense. 

Thenceforward, there was great joy, mingled with 
feverish anxiety, in two households near Tambov. 
Hartmann reached Tomsk a few days in advance of 
Ivan, who had to be sent for at the Yakut village, where 
we last saw him. Anxious as he was to reach home, he 
decided to wait for Ivan, and did so ; then the two of 
them waited for Pushkin and Dubayeff, so that all 
returned together. What a contrast was this journey 
to the one that took them to Siberia ! Words fail to 
describe it, and we will not make the attempt. 


864 : 


THE SIBERIAN EXILES. 


Neither will we try to tell what occurred in the houses 
of Pushkin and Hartmann when the victims of Russian 
injustice reached their old homes. That the meeting 
was joyous, and the greetings most affectionate, it is 
needless to say. 

Diibayeff reported to the governor of Tambov accord- 
ing to stipulation. The investigation of his case showed 
that he had been an active enemy of the government, 
and he frankly admitted that he had done all in his 
power against it. He was given the choice of returning 
to Siberia, expatriating himself from Russia, or taking 
the oath of allegiance to the Czar. 

‘‘ How much time can I have for deciding ?” Dubayeff 
asked. 

“ I will give you a week, yes, two weeks,” was the 
reply, “ and in the meantime, Pushkin and his counsel 
must be responsible for you.” 

“ Thank you,” said the prisoner, for such we must 
still consider him. “ Pushkin has urged me to stay with 
him, and I’ll go there for a fortnight. At the end of 
that time I’ll report here and say what I have deter- 
mined.” 

On the expiration of the allotted time, Dubayeff 
reported that he could not conscientiously take the oath 
of allegiance. Of the other alternatives he preferred, 
as would any sensible man, a residence in a foreign 
country, to exile at hard labor in Siberia. He was 
accordingly conducted to the frontier by two soldiers, 
and a few days later he appeared among the Russian 
refugees in Geneva, where he was at last accounts. 

A few months later there was a wedding which united 
the houses of Hartmann and Pushkin. General Kolas- 
koff sent a present for the bride, and so did his grand- 
daughter and Mr. Lodoff. Dubayeff did not forget the 


THE MYSTERY REVEALED. 


355 


child of his former companion in sorrow, and from far 
away Geneva, he sent, in a registered letter, a pretty 
souvenir. 

But you haven’t told us of the contents of the letter 
Pushkin received from his wife the day after he was 
arrested,” some one remarks. 

“Yes,” says another, “nor about what Pushkin sur- 
mised to be the cause of all his trouble. Nor why the 
husband and wife had a previous understanding about 
letters in the seams of overcoats.” 

The contents of the letter. My Dear Readers, and the 
surmises which proved to be wrong, are family matters, 
about which it would be impertinent for me to inquire. 
And granting the existence of those family matters, it 
was but natural that husband and wife should have a 
way of communication agreed upon against emergen- 
cies. Emergencies may occur in any part of the 
world — especially in Russia. 


THE END. 


CECIL ROSSE: 

A SEQUEL TO 

EDITH TREVOR’S SECRET. 


BY 


MRS. HARRIET LEWIS, 

Author of Her Double Lifef Lady Kildare f BeryVs 

Husbandf “ The Two Husba?idsf ‘‘ Sundered 
Hearts f ** Edda^s Birthright f etc. ^ etc. 


WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY WARREN B. DAVIS. 


12mo. 370 Pagres. Handsomely Bo\md in Cloth. Price, $1.00. 
Paper Cover, 60 Cents. 


“ Cecil Rosse ” is a continuation and conclusion of the extra- 
ordinary story of Edith Trevor’s Secret.” It displays a wonder- 
ful complication of circumstances involving people of highest and 
lowest degree. It shows how much can be accomplished by the 
unstinted use of money, and how helpless innocent girlhood is in 
the face of diabolical ingenuity with money at command. The 
great interest of this story centers in the charming heroine and 
her high-minded lover. 

For sale by all booksellers and newsdealers, or sent, postpaid, 
on receipt of price, by the publishers, 

ROBERT BONNER’S SONS, 

Cor. William and Spruce Streets, New York. 


LIDA CAMPBELL, 

OR 

DRAMA OF A LIFE. 

% N«»il. 


BY 

JEAN KATE LUDLUM, 

Author of Under Oath,'' Under a Cloud," John Win- 
throp's Defeat," etc. 

WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY H. M. EATON. 


12mo. 351 Pages. Handsomely Bound in Cloth. Price, $1.00. 

Paper Cover, 60 Cents. 


This beautiful story was written one year ago. Even then the 
author had premonitory symptoms of the fell disease which so 
recently struck her down in her youth. Her talent was develop- 
ing rapidly, and she promised to become one of the most popular 
writers of the day. “ Lida Campbell, or Drama of a Life,” is a 
novel of the present. Its characters and incidents are familiar, 
and have the strong interest of natural sequence and probability. 
The emotional power which is a marked characteristic of Miss 
Ludlum’s work is strongly wrought out in this novel, and the 
most casual reader cannot fail to be intensely interested in it. 

For sale by ■ _ booksellers and newsdealers, or sent, post- 
paid, on re^ „ipt of price, by the publishers, 

ROBERT BONNER’S SONS, 

Cor, William and Spruce Streets, New York, 


A NEW NOVEL 

By the Popular Author, Mrs. Amelia E. Barr- 

A Cheap Edition : Price, 60 .Cents. 


THE BEADS OF TASMER. 

BY 

MRS. AMELIA E. BARR. 

WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY WARREN B. DAVIS. 

_12mo. 396 Fagres. Handsomely Boiuid in Eng'lish Cloth. Uniform 
with “A Matter of Millions” and “The Forsaken Inn,” By 
I Anna Katharine Green. Price, $1.25. Paper Cover, 60 Cents. 


The Beads of Tasmer,” by Mrs. Amelia E. Barr, is a power- 
ful and interesting story of Scotch life. The singular and stren- 
uous ambition which a combination of ancient pride and modern 
.greed inspires; the loveliness of the Scotch maidens, both High- 
landers and Lowlanders ; the deep religious nature of the people ; 
■the intense manifestation of these characteristic traits by Scotch 
lovers of high and low degree ; the picturesque life of the coun- 
try, involving the strangest vicissitudes of fortune and the exhibi- 
tion of the most loving and loyal devotion, constitute a theme 
which is of the highest intrinsic interest, and which is developed 
by the accomplished authoress with consummate art and irresist- 
ible power. “The Beads of Tasmer ” is certainly one of Mrs. 
Barr’s very best works, and we shall be much mistaken if it does 
not take high rank among the most successful novels of the 
century. 

For sale by all booksellers and newsdealers, or sent, postpaid, 
on receipt of price, by the publishers, 

ROBERT BONNER’S SONS, 

Cor. William and Spruce Streets, New York. 


A Fresh Translation from the German. 


DEAR ELSIE 

^ Novel 


TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN OF 

JOHANNES VAN DEWALL, 


BY 

MARY J. SAFFORD, 

Translator of Wife and Woman f Little Heather-Blossom f 
Love Ls Lord of All f “ True Daughter of 
Martens teinf etc.y etc. 

WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY WARREN B. DAVIS AND WILSON 
> DE MEZA. 

12mo. 336 Pag-es. Handsomely Bound in Cloth. Price, $1.00. 

Paper Cover, 50 Cents. 


All who have read Miss Salford’s delightful translations from 
the German will welcome ^‘Dear Elsie,” which is one of the 
sweetest and prettiest and most artistic novels from the German 
that we have met with. The characters are quite out of the com- 
mon run, and glimpses are given of high life in Paris, of brilliant 
scenes under the Empire, and of the perils of a youthful heiress 
in the brilliant and corrupt society gathered from all parts of 
Europe by the lavish display of Louis Napoleon’s court at the 
Tuileries. But in German novels, as in German life, honest love 
and simplicity and sincerity of character come out of the crucible 
only purified and strengthened. 

For sale by all booksellers and newsdealers, or sent, postpaid, 
on receipt of price, by the publishers, 

ROBERT BONNER’S SONS, 

Cor. William and Spruce Streets, New York. 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS 


BY 

E. VON DINCKLAGE, 


TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN 


By S. E. BOGGS. 

WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY WARREN B. DAVIS, 


12mo. 318 Pagres. Handsomely Boimd in Cloth. Price, $1.00. 

Paper Cover, 60 Cents. 

The Little Countess” is a delightful novel. It is full of life 
and movement, and, in this respect, is superior to most transla- 
tions from the German. It is distinctly a story to be read for 
pure enjoyment. The little countess belongs to an ancient and 
noble family. She is left an orphan in a lonely old castle, with a 
few servants and pets. Her heroic temper sustains her in every 
trial. The part played by an American girl in the story is very 
amusing, and shows what queer ideas are entertained of American 
women by some German novelists. 

For sale by all booksellers and newsdealers, or sent, postpaid, 
on receipt of price, by the publishers, 

ROBERT BONNER’S SONS, 

Cor. William and Spruce Streets, Ncy Vork. 


A CAPITAL AMERICAN STORY, 


UNDER A CLOUD. 

BY JEAN KATE LUDLUM, 

Author of Under Oathf etc» 


ILLUSTRATED BY WARREN B. DAVIS. 

12mo. 800 Pagres. With Numerous Illustrations. Handsomely 
Boimd in Cloth, Price, $1.00. Paper Cover, 60 Cents. 


It was once asked by a celebrated Englishman : ** Who reads 
an American Book ?” The question is no longer a conundrum. 
American books are the popular reading of the present day. 
‘‘ Under a Cloud” is a spirited and pathetic account of the trials 
of a New York lady, who, in consequence of a promise wrung 
from her by her father, is put into relations with her husband 
which are almost unprecedented. The chain of circumstances 
by which the husband is implicated in a crime and the heroic 
efforts of the wife to traverse this chain and unravel the mystery 
make a history of overpowering interest. 

For sale by all booksellers and newsdealers, or sent, postpaid, 
on receipt of price, by the publishers, 

ROBERT BONNER’S SONS, 

Cor. William and Spruce Streets, New York. 


EUGENIE GRANDET 


TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH OF 


Honore De Balzac. 

WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY JAMES FAQ AN. 


12mo. Bound In Cloth, $1.00. Paper Cover, 60 Cents. 


‘‘Eugenie Grandet” is one of the greatest of novels. It is the 
history of a good woman. Every student of French is familiar 
with it, and an opportunity is now afforded to read it in a good 
English translation. The lesson of the book is the hideousness 
of the passion of the miser. Eugenie’s father is possessed by it 
in a degree of intensity probably unknown in America, and to 
our public it will come as a revelation. What terrible suffering 
he inflicts upon his family by his ferocious economy and unscru- 
pulousness only Balzac’s matchless narrative could show. The 
beautiful nature of Eugenie shines like a meteor against the black 
background, and her self-sacrifice, her sufferings and her superb 
strength of character are wrought out, and the story brought to a 
climax, with the finest intellectual and literary power and dis- 
crimination. 

For sale by all booksellers and newsdealers, oi ’>t, postpaid, 
on receipt of price, by the publishers, 

ROBERT BONNER’S SONS, 

Cor. William and Spruce Streets, New York. 


The Breach of Custom 


TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN 


BY 

Mrs. D. M. Lowrey 


WITH CHOICE ILLUSTRATIONS BY O. W. SIMONS. 


Paper Cover, 60 Cents. Bound Volume, $1.00. 


This is a translation of an interesting and beautiful German 
novel, introducing an artist and his family, and dealing with the 
most pathetic circumstances and situations. The heroine is an 
ideal character. Her self-sacrifice is noble and exalted, and the 
influence which radiates from her is pure and ennobling. Every 
one who reads this book will feel that it is one which will be a 
life influence. Few German stories have more movement or are 
more interesting. There are great variety and charm in the 
characters and situations. 

For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of 
price by 

ROBERT BONNER’S SONS, Publishers, 

182 William Street, New York. 


MRS. HAROLD STAGG 


A NOVEL. 


BY 

Robert Grant, 

Author of “Jack Hall,” etc. 


Beautifally Illustrated by Harry C. Edwards. Paper Cover, 60 
Cents. Bound in Cloth, $1.00. 


This is a brilliant novel, in which the author has given a free 
rein to his undoubted faculty for social satire. Mrs. Harold 
Stagg is a capital portraiture whose prototype may be found in 
the drawing-rooms of New York, Boston and Newport. The 
story is told with the amusing and quiet cleverness which has 
imade the author’s reputation, and contains many striking ideas 
which will cause Society’s backbone to creep. Like “ The Anglo- 
maniacs,” it places its heroine under a cross-fire from a wealthy 
swell and a talented youth to fame and fortune unknown — a 
situation which allows Mr. Grant an opportunity to exhibit a 
very interesting and unselfish type of the young American 
woman. In despite of the satire of which Mrs. Harold Stagg is 
the object, every man will like that lady for herself, even thoug> 
he may not be as blindly devoted as her husband. 


An Insignificant Woman. 

% Slorg of Slrtist iCife. 

BY 

W. Heimburg. 

TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN 


By MARY STUART SMITH. 


WITS ILLUSTRATIONS BY WARREN B. DAVIS. 

12mo. Beautifully lUusttated. Handsomely Botmd in Cloth, 
Price, $1.00. Paper Cover, 60 Cents. 


This is a matchless story. It is a vindication of woman. It 
ends finely, so as to bring out beautifully the glorious character 
of the heroine, the insignificant woman. The combination of 
the artistic and practical in this story makes it peculiarly suited 
to the taste of our times. It is impossible to imagine more 
beautiful and effective lessons of magnanimity and forbearance, 
strength and gentleness, than are inculcated in this novel. 
Every woman who lives for her children, her husband and her 
home will find her heart mirrored in the pages of this fascinating 
story. It is told in a manner that must please all readers, and is 
exquisitely rendered in the translation. 

For sale by all booksellers and newsdealers, or sent, postpaid, 
on receipt of price, by the publishers, 

ROBERT BONNER’S SONS, 

Cor. William and Spruce Streets, New Forw 


A Story of a Strange Disappearance, 


WAS SHE WIFE OR WIDOW ? 

( 

BY 

MALCOLM BELL. 


WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY F. A. CARTER, 


12ino. 818 Pages. Handsomely Bound in Cloth. Price, $1.00. 
Paper Cover, 60 Cents. 


It is a most excellent novel, provoking curiosity to the utmost 
and holding the interest at the highest to the end. We never 
read anything quite like it before. “ Dr. Jeckyll and Mr. Hyde ” 
is not more strange and not more interesting. To enter into the 
plot of the story would not give a correct and adequate idea of 
the author’s conception and the admirable manner in which it is 
worked out. It is as good as one of Gaboriau’s detective stories. 

For sale by all booksellers and newsdealers, or sent, post- 
paid, on receipt of price, by the publishers, 

ROBERT BONNER’S SONS, 

Cor. William and Spruce Streets, New York. 


A CHEAP EDITION. PRICE, 50 CENTS. 


A SON OF OLD HARRY 

ca moel. 

BY 

ALBION W. TOURGEE, 

Author of FooPs Errand f Bricks Without Straw f 
Figs and Thistles f Hot Plowshares f etc. 

WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY WARREN B. DAVIS. 

12mo. Handsomely Bound in Cloth. Price, $1.50. Paper Cover, 

50 Cents. 


SOME OPINIONS OF THE PRESS : 

Syracuse Herald. — *‘A story by Albion W. Tourgee is pretty 
sure to be interesting, and ^ A Son of Old Harry ' is no exception 
to the rule. The title comes from certain family traits which de- 
veloped themselves in the hero, and which are charactered by a 
peculiar birth-mark in the shape of a red spur in the heel.” 

Hartford Courant. — “‘A Son of Old Harry,’ by Albion W. 
Tourgee, is the infelicitous title of one of the most notable of re- 
cent novels. The hero, the son of old Harry Goodwin, a West- 
ern settler, joins the Union Army at the beginning of the War, 
and gains name and fame. The style is terse, clear and often 
eloquent, for the author preserves his enthusiasms, especially in 
scenes descriptive of the War and its tragic events.” 

Public Ledger^ Phila. — No one can complain of lack of ex- 
citing interest in this novel. It is told with remarkable skill, and 
the plot is wrought out to its climax with a deepening sense of in- 
terest. The book is fully illustrated by Warren B. Davis.” 

For sale by all booksellers and newsdealers, or sent, postpaid, 
on receipt of price, by the publishers, 

ROBERT BONNER’S SONS, 

Cor. William and Spruce Streets, New York. 


LOVE IS LORD OF ALL; 

OR, 

NEIGHBORING STEPPES. 

^ Noocl. 


ADAPTED FROM THE GERMAN 

BY MARY J. SAFFORD, 

Translator of Wife and Woman f Little Heather-Blossom,** 
True Daughter of Hartenstein,** etc,, etc. 


WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY F, A. CARTER. 


12mo. 350 Pagres. Handsomely Bound in Clotli. Price, $1.00. 

Paper Cover, 50 Cents. 


The second title of this story, ‘‘ Neighboring Steppes,” indi- 
cates the scene of the story, which is adjoining estates on the 
great plains of Poland. The heir of a ruined and dissipated 
nobleman falls in love with the daughter of a rich Jew who has 
bought one of the estates of the family. The beautiful character 
of the Jewess and the heroism of the young baron are in refresh- 
ing contrast to the narrow pride and contemptible conduct of 
those who endeavor to break off their intimacy. It is a surpass- 
ingly interesting sketch of foreign life made familiar by the action 
of human passions which are the same the world over. 

For sale by all booksellers and newsdealers, or sent, post- 
paid, on receipt of price, by the publishers, 

ROBERT BONNER’S SONS, 

Cor. William and Spruce Streets, New York, 


FOR ALMOST HALF A CENTURY 


The Leading Family Weekly: 

THE 

NEW YORK LEDGER. 

FEATURES OF THE “LEDGER” : , 

1. Carefully chosen serial stories, beautifully illustrated, with 
synopses of all preceding installments, new readers being thus 
enabled to begin at any issue. 

2. Short stories based on the most interesting current topics. 

3. Valuable historical articles. 

4. A delightful ‘‘Woman’s Page,” giving useful information 
regarding household questions. 

5. Short and crisp editorials on matters of the moment. 

6. Interesting popular descriptions of the latest wonders of 
science. 

7. A profusion of beautiful illustrations. 

A Four-Dollar Paper for Only TWO Dollars. 

FREE TO ALL SUBSCRIBERS: 

Our Thanksgiving, Christmas, Easter and Fourth-of-July 
Numbers, with beautifully illuminated covers, will be sent without 
extra charge to all our subscribers. 


Subscription Price, $2.00 a Year. 

ADDRESS : 

Publishers NEW YORK LEDGER, 


NEW YORK CITY. 


THE HUNGARIAN GIRL. 


21 Sfooel. 


TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN OF 

MARIAM TENGER 


BY 

S. E. BOGGS, 

Translator of “ The Little Countess T 

WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY WARREN B. DAVIS. 


12mo. 350 pag-es. Handsomely Bound in Cloth. Price, $1.00* 

Paper Cover, 60 Cents. 


This is a stirring romance of the Hungarian revolution of 1848. 
It gives a picture of the society and manners of the period. The 
heroine is allied to a noble family who participated in the gallant 
struggle for independence of Kossuth and his compatriots. This 
is incidental. The interest of the story centers in the relations of 
the heroine to the other characters. These are highly interesting 
and dramatic, owing to her peculiar character and the circum- 
stances of the time. The illustrations by Warren B. Davis are 
exceedingly spirited and add much to the beauty of the volume. 

For sale by all booksellers and newsdealers, or sent, post- 
paid, on receipt of price, by the publishers, 

ROBERT BONNER’S SONS, 

Cor. William and Spruce Streets, New York. 


BEATRIX ROHAN. 

a Noccl. 


BY 

MRS. HARRIET LEWIS, 

Author of “ The Two Husbands f Her Double Life," Lady 

Kildare," Edith Trevor's Secret," Old Life's 
Shadows," “ The Haunted Husband," etc. 

WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY WARREN B. DAVIS. 


12mo. 430 Pages. Handsomely Bound in Clotli. Price, $1.00. 

Paper Cover, 50 Cents. 


^‘Beatrix Rohan ; or, Hunted for Her Money ” will interest all 
novel-readers, as it is an interesting story based upon the character 
and vicissitudes of fortune of a beautiful and accomplished girl. 
Although Mrs. Lewis, like Jane Austen, died in her forty-second 
year, she managed in her short life to produce a goodly number 
of the most popular novels of her time. They have never before 
appeared in book form, and the edition which is now being pub- 
lished will afford thousands who read them as serials an oppor- 
tunity to renew their acquaintance with their old-time favorites. 
“ Beatrix Rohan ” is not unworthy of the author of “ Her Double 
Life,” and we recommend it to all the readers of the latter story. 

For sale by all booksellers and newsdealers, or sent, post- 
paid, on receipt of price, by the publishers, 

ROBERT BONNER’S SONS, 

Cor. William and Spruce Streets, New York. 


THE CHOICE SERIES. •' 


1 —A M Al> BETROTIIAii. By Laura J eau 
Libbey. Cloth, $1.00 ; paper, 50 cis. 

2.— HENRY 31. SSTAN LE V. By H. F. Kecl- 
dall. Cloth, $1.00 ; paper, 50 cts. 

8.— 5IER llOlJBliE LIEE. By Mrs. Har- 
riet Lewis. Cloth, $1.00 ; paper, 50 cts. 

4. — UNKNOWN. |By Mrs. tSouthwonh. 

Cloth, $1.00 : paper, 50 cts. 

5. — THE GIJN3IAKER OE 3IOSCOW. By 

Cobb, Jr. Cloth, $1.00 ; paper, 50 cts. 
(i.-3tAUI) MORTON. By Major A. K. 

Calhoun. Cloth, $1100; paper, 50 cts. 
7.-THE HIDDEN HAND. By Mrs. 

Southworth. Cloth, $1.00 ; paper, 50 cts. 
S.-SUNDERED HEARTS. By Mrs. Har- 
riet Lewis. Cloth, $1.00; paper, 50 cts. 
O.-THE STONE-CUTTER OF lOSBON. 

By W. H.Peck. Cloth, $1.00; paper, 50 cts. 
10.— LADY KIliDARE. By Mrs. Harriet 
Lewis. Cloth, $1.00 ; paper, 60 cts. 

1 i._CR,IS ROCK. By Captaiu Mayue Reid. 

Cloth, $1.00; paper, 50 cts. 

1*2.— NEAREST AND DEAREST. By Mrs. 

Southworth. Cloth, $1.00; paT)er, 50 cts. 
13.— THE BAILIFF’S SCHE3IE. By Mrs. 

liOwis. Cloth, $1.00; paper, 50 cts. 
L4.-A LEAP IN THE DARK. By Mrs. 
Southworth. Cloth, $1.00; paper, 50 cts. 

15. -THE OLD IHFE’S SHADOWS. By 

Mrs. Lewis. Cloth, $1.00 : paper, 50 cts. 

16. — THE LOST LADY OF J.ONE. ByMr.s. 

Southworth. Cloth, $1.00; paper, 50 cts. 

17. — lONE. By Laura Jeau lAbbey. Cloth, 

$1.00 ; paper, 50 cts. 

18. — FOR W03IAN’S liOVE. By Mrs. South- 

worth. Cloth, $1.00 ; paper. 50 cts. 

19. — CESAR BIROTTEAU. By Hoiiore De 

Balzac. Cloth, $1.00 ; i>aper, 50 cts. 

•20. -THE BARONESS BLANK. By 
Niemann. Cloth, $1.00 ; paper, 50 cts. 
•21.— PARTED BY FATE. By Laura Jean 
liibbey. Cloth, $1.00; paper, 50 ets. 
22.-THE FORSAKEN INN. By A. K. 

Green. Cloth, $1.50; paper, 50 cts. 

•23.— O T T I L I E A S T E It ’ S SILENCE. 


Cloth, $1.00; paper, 50 cts. 

•24.— EDDA’S BIRTHRIGHT. By Mrs. Har- 
riet Lewis. Cloth, $1.00 ; paper, 50 cts. 
•25.— THE ALCHE3tIST. By Hoiiore De 
Balzac. Cloth, $1.00; paper, 50 cts. 

•26.— UNDER OATH. By Jeau Kate Ludlum. 

Cloth, $1.00 ; paper, 50 cts. 

•27.— COUSIN PONS. By Honore De Balzac. 

Cloth, $1.00 ; ]»aper, 50 cts. 

•28.-THE UNLOVED WIFE. By Mrs. 

Southworth. Cloth, $1.00 ; paper, 50 cts. 
•29.— LILITH. By Mrs. E. D. E. N. South- 
worth. Cloth, $1.00; paper, 50 cts. 

30. — REUNITED. By A Popular Southern 

Author. Cloth, $1.00; paper, 50 cts. 

31. -3IRS. HAROLD STAIiG. By Robert 

Grant. Clotl^N^l.OO; paper, 50 cts. 

32. -THE BREACH OF CUST03L From 

the German. Cloth, $1.00 ; paper, 60 cts. 
3-3.-THE NORTHERN LIGHT. By E. 
Werner. Cloth, $1.00 ; paper, 60 cts. 

34. -BERYL’S HUSBAND. By Mrs. Har- 

riet Lewis. Cloth, $1.00; paper, 50 cts. 

35. — A liOVE 3IATCH. By Sylvanus 

Cobb, Jr. Cloth, $1.00 ; paper, 50 cts. 

36. -A 3IATTER OF 3IILLH)NS. By A. K. 

Green. Cloth, $1.50; paper, 50 cts. 

37. -EU(lENIE GRANDET. By Honore 

De Balzac. Cloth, $1.00; paper, 60 cts. 

38. -THE IMPROVISATORE. By Hans 

Andersen. Cloth, $1.00; paper, 60 cts. 

39. -PAOLI. THE WARRIOR BISHOP, 

or The Fall of the Christians. By W. 
C, Kitchin. Cloth, $1.00 ; paper, 50 cts. 

40. — UNDER A CLOUD. By Jean Kate 

Ludlum. Cloth, $1.00; paper, 50 ets. 

41. -WIFE AND 03IAN. From the Qer- 

man. Cloth, $1.00 ; paper, 50 cts. 


42. -AN INSIGNIFICANT W03IAN. 

W. Heim burg. Cloth, $1.00; paper, ^ 

43. — THE CARliETONS. By Robert G.: 

Cloth, $1.00 ; paper, 50 cts. 

44. -3IADE310ISELI.E DESROCIlESj 

Andre Theuriet. Cloth, $1.00 ; paper, 

45. -THE BEADS OF TASiUER. By 

Barr. Cloth, $1.25 ; paper, 50 ets. 
46— JOHN WINTHROP'S DEFEAT. 
Jean K. Ludlum. C'loth, $1.00 ; paper, 

47. -L1TT1.K 11 FATHER - BLOSS'j 

From the German. Cloth, $1 ; paper, 

48. -GLORIA. By Mrs. E. D. E. N. Scj 

worth. Cloth, $1.00; paper, 50 cts. 1 

49. — DAVID IHNDSAY. A Sequel to Gi; 

By Southworth. Cloth, $1; paper, 5(/i 

50. -THE liITTLE COUNTESS. Ironi 

German. Cloth, $1.00 ; paper, 50 cts., 

51. -THE CIIAUTAUOUANS. By J 

Habberton. Cloth, $1.25 ; paper, 50 i 

52. — THE TWO HUSBANDS. By : 

Lewis. Cloth, $1.00 ; paper, 50 cts. 

53. -31RS. BARR’S SHORT STORI 

Cloth, $1 .25 ; paper, 60 cts. 

64. -WE PARTED AT THE ALTAR. 

Laura J. Libbey. Cloth. $1 ; paper, 0 

65. -WAS SHE WIFE OR WIDOW? ' 

Malcolm Bell. Cloth, $1.00 ; paper, 60 

56. - THE COUNTRY DOCTOR. By 11 

ore De Balzac. Cloth, $1.00; paper, 50; 

57. -F5.0RABEL’S LOVER. By Ljvih:, 

Libbey. Cloth, $1.00; paper, 50 cts. 

58. — LIDA CAMPBELl.. By Jean 

Ludlum. Cloth, $1.00 ; paper, 50 c^ I 

59. -ED1TH TREVOR’S SECRET. I 

Mrs. Le^vis. Cloth, $1.00; paper, 50 

60. -CECIL ROSSE. A Sequel to 

Trevor’s Secret. By IMrs. Harriet I. i 
Cloth, $1.00 ; paper, 50 cts. 

61. — LOVE IS LORD OF ALL. , From 

German. Cloth, $1.00; paper,. 50 cts.i 

62. — TRUE DAUGHTER OF HARTI 

STEIN. Cloth, $1.00 ; paper, 50 ets. 

63. -ZINA’S AWAKING. By Mrs. J. E 

Spender. Cloth, $1.00 : paper, 50 cts.! 

64. -310RRIS JULIAN’S WIFE. By El 

belli Olmis. Cloth, $1.00; paper, 50 <• 

65. — DEAR EliSIE. From the German. Cl^ 

$1.00; paper, 60 cts. 

66. -THE HUNGARIAN GIRL. From ! 

German. Cloth, $1.00; paper, 60 cts. 

67. — BEATRIX ROHAN. By Mrs. Harl 

Lewis. Cloth, $1.00 ; paper, 50 cts. 

68. — A SON OF OLD HARRY. By All- 

W. Tourgee. Cloth, $1.50; paper, 50 I 

69. — 1I031ANCE OF TROTJVILI.E. 

Meta De Vere from the French of Brel 
Cdoth, $1.00; paper, 50 cts. 

70. -LIFE OF GENERAL .JACKSON. 

Oliver Dyer. Cloth, $1.0o ; paper, 50 - 

71. -THE RETURN OF THE 0’3IAHO? 

By Harold Frederic. Cloth, $1.50; paj 
50 ct s 

72. -REUBEN FORE3TAN, THE VI 

LAGE BLACKS3IITH. By Dat 
Dale. Cloth, $1.00; paper, 50 cts. 

73. — NEVA’S THREE LOVERS. By Aj 

T-ewis. Cloth, $1.00 ; paper, 60 cts. 

74. —“ E3I.” By Airs. E. D. E. N. Southwoi 

Cloth, $1.00 ; paper, 60 cts. 

75. — E3I’S HUSBAND. By Mrs. E. D. E.: 

Southworth. Cloth, $1.00 ; paper, 50 c: 

76. — THE HAUNTED HUSBAND. 

Airs. Lewis. Cloth, $1.00 ; paper, 50 c 

77. -THE SIBERIAN EXILES. By (; 

Thomas W. Knox. Cloth, $2.00 ; par 
50 cts • 

78. -THE SPANISH TREASURE. i 

Elizabeth C. Winter, (Isabella Casteh 
Cloth, $1.00; paper, 50 cts. 

79. -THE KING OF HONEY ISLAB 

By Alanrice Thompson. Cloth, $l.i 
paper, 50 cts. 


I 

I 


\ 


i 

,1 

'f 










LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 


